Odds and Ends: War Blossoms
by E. G. Szyslak
Summary: Thirteen snippets about Vanille and Fang, from the day they meet to the moment they wake up five hundred years later. Inspired by Episode Zero. Set pre-game, written in present tense.
1. Part 1

**.**

_On this day, the tragedy fell, and two seeds were planted in the earth._

- Episode Zero: Tomorrow

**Apply Standard Disclaimers Here**

**.**

**Odds and Ends  
****War Blossoms, Part 1  
****By: E.G. Szyslak** [01/03/11-01/07/11]

**.**

**One**

Vanille doesn't listen to her mother – she never does when it comes to some things because she thinks she knows better – and she takes a chocobo chick with her when they go to the market. She hides it in the pouch she likes to wear around her waist. Her mother thinks she only has coins and beads inside that pouch. The chocobo chick is smart and keeps quiet.

There's a lot of new people in the streets today. It's not unusual; they always have visitors from other clans and villages. Her father tells her it's because their farms are the best in all of Gran Pulse.

"_And that is because of our clan, Vanille,"_ he would remind her, always with a smile, always so proud. _"We Dias have been blessed with hands that can create life and nurture it. This is what we're meant to do in this world. One day, you'll understand, and you'll embrace this gift as we all have."_

But these strangers don't look like they care about growing plants or raising animals.

They don't carry their weapons the way she's seen others do; they walk around like it's part of them. On their left shoulders are marks that look like animals: bear, wyvern and behemoth are among what she sees. Some of them look at her as they pass by. Their eyes are strange: gray, almost colorless, so unlike their darker hair and skin.

"Don't stare, sweetie," her mother says, and though her tone is gentle, Vanille knows she's done something wrong.

"I'm sorry," she quickly says back, turning her eyes away from the strangers.

Her mother smiles at her and takes her hand, a sign that she's forgiven.

"Who are they, Mommy? Why are they here?" she asks, whispering because she doesn't want them to hear her.

"They're of the Yun clan," her mother answers, speaking, not whispering, so Vanille figures it's okay to talk about them like this. "They're hunters who travel around the world. Sometimes, they go to villages like ours and stay for a little while. They come here every few years, usually before winter."

"Hunters?" Vanille echoes, and it makes her think of the animal marks she's seen on the strangers.

She thinks of fierce beasts, of deadly predators and monsters, and she suddenly wants to check on the chocobo chick, to make sure it's okay. She discreetly reaches into her pouch, not wanting to be scolded twice, but all she feels are the coins and the beads that are supposed to be the only things there. She yanks her hand away, then she tries again, and again.

She finds nothing, not even a feather.

"What's wrong, sweetie?"

Her other hand is being squeezed. She looks up and sees that her mother's frowning at her. She touches the bottom of the pouch one more time.

"I-I..." she stutters, and she's staring at the ground now because she's ashamed of what she's about to say. "I b-brought a cho-chocobo chick with me- I know you said not to, Mommy, b-but I-I've done it before and it was okay because nothing bad happened but now..." she whimpers, "but now..."

"Oh, Vanille," her mother sighs, kneeling down and hugging her. "It ran off, didn't it?"

She sobs what barely sounds like a yes.

Her mother holds her chin up and wipes her tears.

"This is why you shouldn't take hatchlings outside so soon. Do you understand now?"

Vanille nods, sniffling.

"I'm sorry. I won't do it again."

Her mother smiles at her and gives her a kiss on the head.

"I know, sweetie. Now, come, we have a chocobo chick to find."

* * *

They search the streets, the stores and the stands, but the marketplace is just too big. With every shake of the head or shrug from a store owner or a passerby, Vanille feels worse and worse. She wishes that admitting she's wrong would bring the chocobo chick back.

They keep searching, she doesn't know for how long, but then her mother stops and looks at her.

"Vanille..."

Now she feels like crying.

She knows what her mother's going to say. She doesn't care if there will be other chocobo chicks; she wants this one back.

"Excuse us."

Two people approach them: a woman and a girl who looks to be around Vanille's age.

"Does this little fellow belong with you?" the woman asks, her speech strange, one Vanille has never heard before, but the woman sounds kind, like her mother.

The girl holds out her hands and there's the chocobo chick Vanille thinks she has lost, feasting on a large piece of gysahl green.

"You found him!" she squeals happily, running over and leaning close so she could coo at the chocobo chick.

The girl grins at her.

"He found us," she corrects, and Vanille notices that the girl sounds a little different from the woman. "I caught him trying to get into a sack of greens."

The woman gives the girl an approving nod, then she turns to them and smiles.

"A merchant told us a darling little Dia girl was looking for a chocobo chick," she explains, and Vanille feels a little shy because now everyone's looking at her.

"Thank you," Vanille hears her mother say. "I'll pay you for the greens he ate."

"That won't be necessary," the woman tells them. "He didn't steal from us. My daughter insisted he be fed."

The girl frowns.

"He's really thin, Mother."

"He'll be fine," the woman murmurs affectionately, stroking her daughter's hair.

The girl holds her hands out a little more.

"Here. Take him."

Vanille puts her own hands together and the girl carefully places the chocobo chick and the gysahl green on her palms. The bird chirps, and she's not sure if it's angry or surprised, but it just goes right back to eating. She giggles, and she would have pet the chocobo chick again if she could.

"What's your name?" she asks the girl, hoping she's not being rude.

"Oh!" her mother gasps. "I'm so sorry, where are my manners? Cheis Dia Lavena," she introduces herself. "This is my daughter Vanille."

"Yun Eilith," the woman responds.

"Yun Fang," the girl follows.

Vanille stares at them. The woman, even though her hair is black, doesn't look like any of the Yuns she's seen: her skin is pale and her eyes are green. She has a weapon, too – a lance – but instead of a mark on her body, she has earrings and a necklace. The girl, however, looks just like a Yun, except her eyes are green.

As their mothers talk, Vanille notices that Fang is taller than her, and instantly, she is curious.

"How old are you?" she asks, then she quickly follows it up with, "I'm six."

Fang blinks, surprised at first, and then she grins.

"I'm going to be eight really soon."

**.**

**Two**

It's three, almost four years later when they see each other again.

"Where's your mom?" is the first thing Vanille asks.

Fang doesn't answer because she's holding her breath and she's trying so hard not to shake. She doesn't say that her mother, that both her parents have been dead for over a year now, but then Vanille pulls her close and holds her, and for a moment, it hurts a little less.

When Vanille lets her go and steps back, she asks her own question.

"What was that for?"

It's a stupid thing to say, but she really wants to know what Vanille has seen, what Vanille still sees.

"You looked..." there's a pause and she wonders why, "you looked like you needed a hug."

Fang frowns. She's not sure if she should thank Vanille; she's not even sure if she wants to.

* * *

The next day, they're out in the field owned by Vanille's family, where there's a herd of sheep grazing and a flock of chocobos basking in the afternoon sun. Vanille just finishes showing Fang around the farm and now they're taking a stroll. Vanille is walking ahead, sometimes stopping to check on the animals they come across, and Fang is following quietly.

"You know," Vanille chimes, "this can be your home, if you want."

"_Gran Pulse_ is my home," Fang retorts, and it's with a startling, powerful conviction that would do her clan proud.

Vanille throws a ball of wool in the air and catches it, something she's been doing for a while now.

"Yeah, but it's _so_ big," she argues, and she even spins twice, her arms stretched out. "Don't you get tired of moving all the time, even just a little?"

Fang shakes her head, not because she's disagreeing but because she thinks Vanille is being ridiculous.

"When I'm older," Vanille goes on, unfazed, maybe even amused, "I'm going to see the rest of the world. I'll jump in the hot springs in Sulyya, take pictures of the tall buildings in Paddra, attend the festival in Oerba... I'll go everywhere, anywhere I want! Then I'm going to come back here, get married, and have a family of my own. And when my kids see a Yun for the first time, you know what I'll do? I'll tell them there's nothing to be scared of."

Fang is shaking her head again. She doesn't think like that. She doesn't dream like that.

Vanille spins one more time and clings to her left arm, leaning in like she's about to reveal a secret.

"I know what your favorite village is."

"Oh, yeah?" Fang challenges.

"Mmm-hmm," Vanille hums happily. "This one! Know why?"

"No, why?" Fang quips, deciding to keep humoring Vanille.

Vanille smiles.

"Because I'm here."

Fang is supposed to say something clever but she laughs instead.

"I'm right!" Vanille gloats, looking very happy with herself. "Cheis Yun Fang. Like it?"

Fang stops, blinks, then laughs even harder.

"It's not _that_ bad," Vanille tries to protest, but she's already grinning.

* * *

The Yuns are leaving Cheis in five days; they'll be heading south of the village, to the Steppe. Vanille abandons her friends again – that's what Fang calls it, while Vanille reasons that she has the next few years to make it up to them and she only has a few days left with Fang – and she joins Fang by the river.

"You sure you want to stay?" Fang asks, rubbing the back of her neck.

"Sure am," Vanille chirps, sitting down and getting comfortable.

"You'll get bored."

"Not with the way you fish!"

Fang doesn't really believe Vanille but she goes ahead, picking up a spear on her way back to the river. She's here because one of the store owners in the village says he'll provide the clan with supplies in exchange for fish. Fang has agreed to do it, but only because there are no hunts planned for today.

"Wow, another one already? You're really good," Vanille remarks after a few catches.

Fang smirks.

"I'm a Yun. I've been fishing since I learned how to walk."

When she's done, Fang goes to deliver the fish to the store. Vanille comes with her. The owner thanks her and promises to have the goods delivered to the Yuns. Once they're out of the store, Fang notices Vanille staring at her and it makes her tilt her head.

"What is it?"

Vanille's the one shaking her head this time.

"Are you always doing chores when I'm not around?"

Fang scoffs.

"They're not chores."

"They're not fun."

"Fishing is fun."

"You said it was boring."

"It is if all you do is sit on your butt and watch."

"Hmph," Vanille huffs, "then maybe you should teach me how to fish."

Fang chuckles.

"Next time we come here, maybe."

* * *

They meet up with Lavena for a late lunch. While Vanille and her mother talk about where they could eat, Fang marvels – still – at how similar they look, and sometimes, how similar they act. One difference between mother and daughter is how they wear their hair: Vanille still has her pigtails while Lavena's hair is braided.

The wind picks up. Fang sees Lavena brush hair away from Vanille's face, and she thinks, before she can stop, that her own mother would have done the same thing for her.

Lavena looks at her, smiles at her.

"Fang, do you-"

Then the smile is gone, and the horror and fear in Lavena's eyes is something Fang has seen once before. She turns around and looks up, and something comes down from the sky, from Cocoon. The creature – the monster – casts a shadow that's bigger than the entire village. It moves: raises one hand, then the other, and Fang thinks she hears it laughing.

The hands come down, and she can't hear anything else anymore because there's suddenly so much noise, people are screaming, children are crying and they're all so loud. They're running and bumping into her, into each other, and they're pushing and shoving and there's just so many of them.

There's so many people.

Lavena's holding her wrist in one hand, Vanille's in the other, and she's tugging, pulling them away. They're squeezing through the streets that are suddenly too small, too crowded. It's getting darker, getting harder to see, and Fang doesn't know where they're going.

Something hits her – or someone, or maybe it's one, two, three people, but she doesn't really know, can't really tell – and the grip on her wrist slips away and she's knocked into a wall.

"Vanille! Fang!"

Lavena's voice sounds so far away.

Fang tries to stand. Her head hurts. She's a little dizzy.

Lavena's all the way back there. She's trying to get through, but she can't because everyone's going the other way and they're dragging her along.

"Vanille! Vanille, run!"

Fang gets up and looks around.

Vanille's standing there. She's just standing there, staring at her mother.

Fang runs to her and grabs her arm.

"Come on!"

The hands come down again, along with the buildings and the mountains, and the ground is torn and ripped open. The farmlands are taken away, up to Coocon. The rivers come up, swallowing the streets and the fields. People are being crushed, being washed away, but Fang and Vanille find a place to hide. They're lucky they're just children, that they're small enough to fit.

The screams are louder now, louder than the falling buildings and the crashing waves.

"Cover your ears," Fang tells Vanille, repeating the exact words spoken to her before, the night her parents died. "Don't look. Don't look."

But, like, before, Fang doesn't heed those words and she looks. She sees a face. It's smiling.

When it's over, when it's quiet, they're both shaking. Vanille is whimpering about her mother, her father, her clan, her village, her family, and she's asking why. Why, why, why, over and over. The creature, the monster – the fal'Cie – is leaving, is going back to Cocoon, and Fang is glaring at it, growling at it.

She can hear it now, when the only other sound is Vanille crying.

It's laughing.

**.**

**Note:**

**Episode Zero**: dilly-shilly . blogspot 2009 / 10 / final-fantasy-xiii-episode-zero . html


	2. Part 2

**.**

_On this day, the tragedy fell, and two seeds were planted in the earth._

- Episode Zero: Tomorrow

**Apply Standard Disclaimers Here**

**.**

**Odds and Ends  
War Blossoms, Part 2  
By: E.G. Szyslak** [01/08/11-01/25/11]

**.**

**Three**

Vanille walks out of the kitchen, being careful with the tray she's holding. She slows down as she gets closer to the bunk beds, trying not to make any noise. Fang's occupying one of the bottom bunks, facing the wall, lying on her side. Vanille starts to move to an empty bed so she could put the tray down and wake Fang.

"Vanille?"

She squeaks, almost drops the tray.

"You're up," she mumbles, almost like she's berating herself, like she should have known.

No matter how quiet Vanille tries to be, Fang always hears her coming. There's just no sneaking up on Fang, even when she's asleep. Vanille figures it's just one other thing they have to get used to, and that's okay. She hopes that someday, she'll either learn how to be quiet enough or Fang will sense her, will simply know when it's her and keep sleeping.

Vanille sits on the side of the bed and waits for Fang to roll on her back, not missing the little flinch and grimace. She knows that Fang already took her medication – Vanille makes sure she never misses it – but she wishes she can make all the pain go away.

It's been three weeks since they were found by a search party a few miles from Cheis, what's left of it, what it used to be; three weeks since they were taken to Oerba and put in an orphanage; three weeks since Fang broke her ribs and her arm protecting Vanille from the biggest gorgonopsid she had ever seen.

She finds out later, after they're rescued from the beast and Fang's being carried away, that it was a megistotherian.

Vanille doesn't – didn't – know things like that existed, not before that day, when monsters came after them.

It's been three weeks since the war between Gran Pulse and Cocoon began.

"What's that?" Fang asks, sitting up slowly to get a better look.

Vanille smiles and sets the bed tray over Fang's lap.

"I made you something."

On the tray is a big bowl of soup, hot and fresh off the pot. Fang stares at it, then stares at Vanille.

"Is this...?"

"Oretoise soup," Vanille says, picking up the spoon and dipping it into the bowl. "Extra salty, just the way you like it."

It's also just like how her mother used to make. She remembers how much Fang liked it.

Vanille puts her hands together in prayer, then she bows her head and closes her eyes. She feels Fang watching her, and she wonders if it's the same curious look she and her family got three years ago, when they invited Fang and her mother for a meal as thanks for finding and returning that chocobo chick she had lost.

It takes Vanille a little longer to pray these days.

When she's finished, she takes the spoon again and lifts it up. Fang doesn't even pause and leans over for a taste. Vanille's smiling now, so much that she's sure she looks very silly. She knows that Fang can feed herself, even with her right arm in a cast – she's proven it, too – so it makes Vanille happy that Fang's letting her do this.

Those green eyes seem to say: _"Only if it's you."_

After two more servings – all for Fang, since Vanille finds the soup to be a little too salty – Vanille carries the tray back to the kitchen and tells the matron she'll wash the dishes later. She comes back and catches Fang getting out of bed.

"I want to walk around for a little bit," Fang says, trying to smile at her, for her.

Vanille takes Fang's free hand and squeezes gently.

"Okay."

* * *

They go to the beach, where it's not crowded this time of day. Vanille knows that Fang hates it when people fuss over her because of her injury. They walk, just like Fang wanted, and Vanille picks up a few seashells along the way. The sun is about to set by the time they decide to sit on the sand and rest.

"You okay?" Vanille asks, noticing that Fang's been wincing more and more.

Broken ribs heal on their own, she's been told, but it's painful.

"Yeah," Fang grunts, struggling not to wince again.

Vanille nods, pretending she doesn't see it. She wishes she could give Fang a hug without hurting her even more.

"I think I ate too much," Fang mutters.

"I'm glad you liked it," Vanille quips, even though she's already decided they're going back to the orphanage after this conversation. "I'll mix in some flan next time."

"Ugh," Fang gripes, making a face. "I hate flan."

Vanille laughs and takes Fang's hand.

"Let's go," she says, "it's time for dinner."

"I'm not going to eat again."

* * *

When they get back, Fang heads straight for bed and Vanille joins the rest of the household for dinner. She helps wash the dishes as she had promised earlier, then she joins Fang in the bottom bunk and they lie around until it's time to sleep.

"Get your pillow," Fang tells her, scooting over so there would be room for her.

Vanille nods and takes two steps up the ladder, enough for her to reach the pillow. She grabs it, scrambles back down and slips under the blanket with Fang.

This is how it's been for them since their first night alone in the wilderness.

Vanille wishes she could move closer, wishes that Fang could hold her the way she did those nights before they were found, but having Fang beside her is enough to make the bad dreams go away.

"Hey," Fang says softly, tiredly, "when I get better, I'll take the top bunk, okay? I know you don't like it up there."

Fang knows she's afraid of heights. Vanille knows it doesn't matter because neither of them are ever going to use the top bunk.

"Fang," she whispers, so the others wouldn't hear, "some people came by this morning. They were really nice. I think they like me."

"Oh."

It's all Fang says, but it's so easy to know what she's thinking, what she's feeling.

Vanille is sweet and friendly, the kind of girl folks would want to adopt.

Fang's not like that. She's a Yun, an outsider, too different, too wild. Nobody would want to take her home.

Vanille shifts so she'd be able to look Fang right in the eye.

"Fang, I'm not going with them, not if they don't take you, too," she says, squeezing Fang's left hand. "They probably have a big house, and they'd give me my own room, buy me things I want and... and that would be really nice..." she stops so she could make Fang look at her, "but I like it here a lot more because I'm with you."

Fang's quiet for a while, for too long.

Vanille's about to speak again, to ask so many questions, to go ahead and make the promise she knows she doesn't need to say, but then she feels her hand being squeezed back.

"I like it, too," Fang murmurs, carefully putting an arm – the broken one – around her and pulling her a little closer.

**.**

**Four**

It's late in the afternoon and Vanille's sitting alone at the dining table. Sewing supplies and cotton stuffing are laid out on the table instead of plates and silverware. She's patching up Boco, a small plush chocobo that she decided to make – and name – for Fang two years ago.

_._

_Vanille wakes up in the middle of night and sees that Fang is still awake. It's like this sometimes; Fang has trouble sleeping because she's uncomfortable, because she's in pain._

_But it's not supposed to happen anymore._

_Fang's okay now, her ribs have healed and her arm is out of the cast. She's holding Vanille and she's breathing calmly, easily,_ _but the look in her eyes is the same as all those other nights. Something about it – something about seeing Fang like this and not knowing why – makes Vanille think of the nightmare, of the memory of her mother telling her to run away._

"_Go back to sleep," Fang whispers, just like she always did._

_Vanille doesn't nod and close her eyes like she's supposed to, not this time._

"_What about you?" she asks, she wonders._

_Fang blinks slowly, once, twice, then she takes a deep breath._

"_Soon," she says, almost as if she's waiting for it, too._

_._

These days, whenever Vanille wakes up in the middle of the night, Fang is usually asleep, with an arm around her and a hand clutching Boco. Sometimes, like now, Boco winds up with rips and tears that have to be stitched. Fang doesn't mean to do that; she's not even aware – or awake – when she does it. Vanille doesn't mind because it hasn't been anything she can't fix.

By tonight, Boco will be as good as new, or good enough, at least.

Vanille's halfway done when she hears the door close and footsteps come her way. It can't be Fang, not with all that noise. The matron walks in, carrying several bags of groceries, and greets her with a smile.

"I see poor Boco needs mending again," the matron chimes. "That's the third time in two months, isn't it?"

Vanille laughs, setting Boco aside.

"It's the fourth time, Matron," she says, standing up and taking some of the bags.

"Thank you, Vanille."

She smiles and starts to help unpack the groceries.

"Where is everyone?" the matron asks as they rummage through the bags.

"Orvin and Irvette are out with their new friends from Sulyya," Vanille says like it's nothing new. "Wynn went to the train station after lunch. They called and asked him to come in early today. I think Safiyah's still at school. She said something about having more kids to tutor over the weekend. And," she stops, pauses for a few seconds, "I'm not sure if Fang's with the spear master or with the hunters that left at dawn."

The matron listens and reacts as she talks, seems amused with Orvin and Irvette, looks concerned yet proud of Wynn and Safiyah, and frowns when it comes to her and Fang.

Vanille knows the matron – everyone – still worries about them, even though she doesn't cry that much anymore and Fang has gotten better. She's told it's because she and Fang are the youngest, that they're the babies of the household, but she understands why they really worry, why they still do.

She still worries about Fang, too.

She still doesn't know what really happened to Fang's mother. She doesn't even know if Fang has nightmares.

Fang doesn't cry. Fang doesn't feel sad.

Vanille goes back to the dining table when they're done putting away all the groceries. The matron gives her a cold glass of sweetened coconut juice and sits beside her. She happily thanks the matron, drinks nearly half of the juice in one gulp, and then she continues to work on Boco.

'"This is so strange," the matron remarks. "I'm not used to the house being so... peaceful."

_._

"_Hey, Yun," Orvin says one night after dinner, some time after Fang's injuries have fully healed. "I noticed ya don't pray before meals. What's the matter, got no faith?"_

_Safiyah gives Orvin a dirty look._

"_We don't force our faith on anyone," Wynn reminds Orvin, ever the kind expression on his face. "We're all family here in Oerba, regardless of faith."_

_Orvin snorts._

"_I'm not forcin' anything on anybody. I was just asking Yun here a question."_

_Fang sneers._

"_You shouldn't start fights you can't win, Orvin," Irvette advises, smirking._

"_Let him," Safiyah mutters. "It might do him some good. Teach him some manners, at least."_

_Vanille giggles, abandoning the dishes she was piling and going over to link her arm to Fang's. Fang is only acting annoyed, she can tell. She knows Fang is starting to like the older orphans, even Orvin._

"_Yuns had never shown an interest in faith," Safiyah says, always willing to share her knowledge. "When they visited towns and villages, they were only concerned about the most basic things like lodging and trade goods. They were a very practical clan. I wouldn't be surprised if they didn't indulge in ceremonies and festivities."_

"_So, you don't believe in anything, Yun?" Orvin asks Fang, sounding genuinely curious._

"_The only thing I believe in is Lady Luck," Fang says, and she says it like it's an adage, and Vanille is thinking that for Yuns, maybe it was. _

_Maybe it is, she corrects herself as she looks at Fang._

_Orvin snorts._

"_Psh, Yuns. Figures it'd be a lady. And, hey, don't ya think you're a bit too young to be thinking about ladies?"_

_Wynn sighs._

"_If there's anyone thinking about women, Orvin, it's you."_

"_I'm a hunter," Orvin declares, "comes with the territory. Ain't that right, Yun?"_

_Fang scoffs._

"_What kind of hunter loses to a kid with a broken arm?"_

"_And broken ribs," Irvette chimes._

"_Hey, I was going easy on you!" Orvin howls indignantly. "Come on, you're all healed up. Let's have at it right now."_

_Fang grins at the challenge, and Vanille barely gets away in time before Fang lunges at Orvin, knocking him down along with most of the furniture in the room._

_._

Vanille agrees with the matron. She likes it when the house is lively, even if it's Safiyah singing off key in and out of the shower or Orvin goading Fang into another of those friendly scuffles, crying foul when he loses. But she also likes this, sitting here, talking to the matron and enjoying the best coconut juice she's ever had. It's the kind of short yet precious moment she used to have with her own mother.

The matron – the way she talks, and sometimes, the way she looks – reminds Vanille so much of her mother. Oerba reminds her of Cheis, only the people treat each other like they all belong to the same clan. Vanille doesn't feel like an orphan anymore. She doesn't think about being adopted, she doesn't want to be.

She has a home now. She has a family now.

She hopes that someday, Fang will feel the same way.

**.**

**Five**

"I see one, Fang!"

"A nice one, too!" Fang cheers, happily bumping forearms with her, but quickly turns serious. "Okay, stay back."

Vanille nods and moves further away. She watches as Fang launches straight into the air, over an unsuspecting wyvern, and dives right for the beast, forcing it to the ground in a swift, vicious plummet.

The wyvern wails and struggles, but Fang easily holds it down. The beast then heaves one last howl and goes limp, finally yielding.

Fang grins and tells her she can come closer now. She hurries over and grasps Fang's outstretched hand. She climbs on the beast, not thinking about the many, many times she's been told how dangerous this is, how it's reckless not to use a rod to reign the wyvern and careless to ride without a saddle.

She doesn't need to take all those precautions to feel safe; all she has to do is hold onto Fang.

All Fang has to say is, _"It's okay,"_ to make Vanille forget she's scared of heights, to make her believe she doesn't have to be.

Fang nudges the wyvern. The subdued wild animal stirs obediently. Vanille clings to Fang as the beast gets up and slowly takes to the air.

"Ready?"

Pressed so close to Fang, Vanille feels the question more than she hears it.

"Yes," she breathes.

Suddenly, they're soaring, and they're so high up she thinks she can touch the sun if she dares. Then, a second later, a heartbeat later, they're shooting through the clouds like they're trying to chase the wind, and the only thing Vanille thinks is to not let go, to not let Fang slip away.

This is how Yuns fly – this is how Fang flies – and it's something Fang only shows to her, something Fang only shares with her.

Fang takes her to her favorite meadows and valleys, lets her wander into whatever nook she happens to find this time around, and makes sure it's safe for her to approach a wild sheep or chocobo. They glide over waterfalls and oceans, and if they're low enough, Vanille would reach out and touch the water.

Vanille loses count of all the places they go to, all the plants and animals they see, and she has no idea how long they've been out.

They're circling Oerba now. Vanille spots the train station and the bridge.

She starts to say, "I can even see the Tem-" then she gasps, "Fang! Fang, the festival!"

"Yeah? What about it?"

"It's _today_, Fang!"

"I know."

Vanille gawks, staring dumbly at the back of Fang's head.

"You knew?"

"Yeah."

"I forgot!" Vanille sputters.

Fang laughs.

"I know."

Vanille tries to squeeze Fang as hard as she can, but all she gets out of it are more chuckles.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she whines.

"Because I don't want to go."

She whines louder.

"_Faaang._"

They slow down.

"We can land over there," Fang says, letting her win, giving her what she wants.

Vanille gives Fang the hug she deserves.

* * *

The house is empty when they get there. Vanille finds a note on the bunk bed she and Fang share. It's from the matron, telling them they're in trouble for going wyvern riding again. She's not surprised – it's been over a year since Fang took her wyvern riding for her twelfth birthday, a year of the matron disapproving it – but she does wonder how the matron finds out about it every time.

She showers then gets dressed. She finds her bead jewelry and her bangles and carefully, reverently puts them on. Dia women, they don't wear their handmade adornments on just any day.

Only on really special days, her mother used to tell her when she was a child.

She fixes her hair in pigtails, another must for a Dia girl like her, and she takes one last look in the mirror, admiring the silver hoop earrings the family had given her on her thirteenth birthday, then fetches a bouquet of flowers that she and Irvette had grown and arranged themselves.

"Come on, Bhakti," she tells the small robot at her feet.

Bhakti beeps in confirmation and follows her. Fang's already outside, looking like she's been there for a while, already starting to get impatient. Fang, she notes, isn't all dressed up like her, is instead wearing clean, everyday clothes.

She thinks that Safiyah may be right, that Yuns didn't really care for things like ceremonies and celebrations. But it could also mean Fang just doesn't like fancy clothes and festivals. After all, Fang's only going because of her.

"I'm sorry I made you wait so long," she says.

Fang relaxes and smiles easily.

"It's okay."

Vanille's about to smile back, but she blinks instead when Fang gives her a strange look.

"What is it?" she asks.

"You're wearing those," Fang mumbles, eyes on her beads and bangles. "What for?"

Vanille giggles at the silly question.

"For the festival, what else!"

"This festival is stupid," Fang mutters with a scowl.

Vanille goes quiet, shocked by how spiteful Fang had sounded.

"It's important," she says softly.

Fang scoffs.

"To them, maybe."

Vanille frowns. It hurts to hear Fang say that. It hurts to know that, after four years in Oerba, after four years with the matron and Orvin, Irvette, Safiyah and Wynn, Fang still feels like an outsider. It hurts that nothing she's done has made Fang feel any different.

"I want to go," she whispers, clutching the bouquet of flowers to her chest, "and I wish you'd come with me."

Fang makes a sound of frustration and turns away, probably hiding that scowl from her. Fang runs a hand through her hair, muttering something in disdain. Vanille stares at her feet, wondering if she made it worse. She doesn't want to fight with Fang.

She hears Fang sigh, and then she feels a weight on her head. She opens her eyes. Fang's hand is on her head, Fang's face is close to hers. She looks at Fang, notices the expression, one she can't read, and she gets ready to blurt out an apology when Fang sighs.

"I said I'd go with you, yeah?" Fang asks in that gentle tone only she's heard.

Vanille timidly nods.

"You did," she says quietly.

Fang smiles crookedly.

"I just think it's dumb," she mutters, trying to explain. "We're supposed to co-exist with the fal'Cie, not worship them like bloody fools."

The way Fang is sneering, what Fang is saying, Vanille understands now. Fang doesn't talk about her clan, never brags about the Yuns being better or knowing better, but the pride is there, in what Fang does, what Fang says. Yuns don't like the festival. She understands now.

"Does that include me?" she asks Fang. "Am I stupid, too?"

"No," Fang snorts like she's being ridiculous. "You don't worship Anima like Oerbans do. Cheis didn't worship fal'Cie. You're just... too nice, too sweet. You didn't have to dress up for it."

Vanille pouts.

"Do you think I look stupid?"

Fang blinks.

"What? No. You look good, too good for this festival."

Vanille giggles, showing off her jewelry.

"You like it them?"

"You look good," Fang repeats, this time with a smile.

"I can make you something, if you like," Vanille cheerfully tells Fang, noting the necklace and the earrings Fang almost never takes off.

They look familiar, she thinks, but she can't figure out how.

Fang blinks, and Vanille wonders if she's offended somehow, if jewelry held a different significance to Yuns, but then Fang is chuckling.

"Yeah," Fang says. "Yeah, I'd like that."

Vanille smiles, both pleased and relieved. She thinks that bangles would good on Fang.

"Why do you have Bhakti?" Fang asks, having noticed the robot and tilting her head at it.

Vanille's smile turns into a grin.

"He's coming with us," she declares.

Fang keeps her head tilted.

"Why?"

"Because I want him to," Vanille quips. "Besides, he can take pictures!"

Fang scoffs.

"Since when?"

"Since last night. I tried to tell you, but you were so tired you fell asleep before I could say one word," Vanille explains. "Wynn put in a new program and it works!"

"Yeah? Before or after Bhakti set his hair on fire?"

Vanille tries to frown, tries to show Fang that she doesn't approve, but all she can think about it is the sizable bald spot on Wynn's head and now she's struggling not to laugh. Fang notices and eagerly laughs for her, and it's such an infectious sound that Vanille can't help but give in.

Fang grins smugly and picks up Bhakti.

"Give him here, then," she says. "Don't want to lose him in the crowd now."

Bhakti's lenses poke out from under the metal flaps.

Fang stares.

A big, bright flash goes off.

Fang jerks back, blinking.

"Oh!" Vanille gasps. "I didn't know you knew how to do that, Fang."

Fang blinks some more, still a little disoriented.

"I don't."

Then it happens again, making Fang go cross-eyed.

Vanille covers her mouth to hide a grin and stifle the giggles that are already coming out. She doesn't notice Fang is smirking and turning Bhakti towards her.

"Look, Vanille, I figured it out!"

Another flash goes off.

Vanille squeaks and jumps.

"Fang!" she shrieks. "That wasn't funny!"

Then she pouts.

"I could've dropped the flowers..."

Fang chuckles and hugs her with one arm.

"I wouldn't have let that happen," she says confidently, sincerely, and Vanille knows it's true.

Fang pulls away and holds her hand. Vanille looks down to see if it's the same hand she held tightly earlier. It is. It's Fang's right hand, wrapped in bandages, and it's only now – just now – she remembers that Fang hurt her hand a few days ago. The injury isn't serious, and it's the kind of thing that happens a lot with all the training and hunting Fang does.

But what's bothering Vanille is that she didn't even notice it, that she's getting – has gotten – used to this: to Fang with bandages, stitches and scars.

"Let's go," Fang tells her.

Vanille makes sure she doesn't grip too hard this time.

* * *

After a short trip, they arrive at Oerba's main district, where the festival is being held. The streets are filled with people from all over Gran Pulse and lined with stands and stalls that sell everything from rare delicacies to carvings of popular crystal l'Cie.

Vanille spends the next hours pulling Fang into all kinds of stores and taking pictures of whatever object or person she finds interesting. She samples dishes from other villages and buys produce that don't grow in the north. By sunset, Fang's holding bags of fruits, vegetables and random novelties. Vanille still has the bouquet and she's tugging Bhakti along with a leash, one of the first things she got.

They bump into the matron – literally, for Vanille – who insists on taking their bags and Bhakti home since they won't allow it in the Temple, reasoning that she's on her way back to the house as well.

"Don't stay out too late, girls," the matron says as she's leaving. "We'll talk about your punishment when the festival's over."

They go straight to the Temple. Vanille wants to offer the flowers there.

A saying as old as Oerba itself claims that, every ten years, the crystal l'Cie might awaken from sleep, and so people gather in Oerba to honor the l'Cie and Anima for three days, Anima, the fal'Cie that resides within the Temple. They bring food for when – if – the l'Cie wake up and they bring flowers to Anima in hopes that the fal'Cie would make it happen.

Fang is right, Vanille hasn't adopted Oerba's faith in Anima, but she wants to show that she'll still pray for the l'Cie.

There's a large crowd waiting outside the Temple when they get there. Crystal l'Cie that have been kept in their villages the past ten years are being carried inside.

A guard notices the bouquet Vanille is holding.

"Over there, children," he tells them, "with the others."

"Thank you," Vanille says, smiling at him.

Fang nods at the man and they join the other people who also have flowers. Vanille marvels at the variety of bouquets surrounding them. She wishes she could take pictures.

A priest appears at the entrance. He's wearing a black robe and carrying a large staff. He has broad shoulders and a rough voice that sounds threatening even as he welcomes them inside. Vanille quickly reaches for Fang's hand as they start following the priest into a wide hall. The inside of the Temple looks strange, all metal and lights and a quiet hum that sounds like moving gears.

Fang scowls.

"I don't like the air in here," she mutters.

Some people in the group turn to stare in shock or disapproval, and when Fang gamely looks back at them, they either quickly avert their gazes or mutter darkly about disrespectful youth. The priest up front is talking, telling them about Oerba, Anima and the festival.

Vanille leans in and whispers, "I don't like it, either," and it makes Fang grin proudly.

The priest's next words rumble through the halls:

"You will lay your offerings at the House of Stairs."

It's quiet for only a moment before several conversations begin.

"It's shocking how many l'Cie we've had since the last festival."

"And to think that means there's seven times as much cie'th."

It's another saying Vanille is familiar with: for every l'Cie who has fulfilled their focus, there are seven others who have failed and turned into cie'th.

"I would say there's more. This war has perhaps doubled the numbers of l'Cie _and_ fal'Cie alike. I've witnessed dormant fal'Cie come out of hiding just to brand someone. Add to that the villages that have been culled..." the person speaking trails off and sighs. "We've lost far too much already."

Vanille gently squeezes Fang's hand.

More villages have been lost since Cheis, torn apart by Cocoon fal'Cie. It's become known as the Culling.

Vanille thinks of the time they learned that Ruard, a village in the south, was destroyed. She remembers how the news seemed to affected Fang and, to this day, she wonders if Fang will ever tell her about it.

"That's enough sniveling," another person hisses. "All these sacrifices we've been forced to make won't be in vain. Anima has guided us to the lost and forgotten Arks and we've lifted them from the ground. Rest assured our l'Cie _will_ make Cocoon fall and Lindzei will be no more."

Vanille wants to cover her ears. She wants to keep pretending none of this is happening. She wants to go outside, where the war and the bad memories feel so far away.

She moves closer to Fang.

The priest informs them that the House of Stairs is beyond the chamber ahead. The group becomes silent when they see that it's the Chamber of the L'Cie. Vanille notices that one side has more people than the rest and guesses it's because the crystal l'Cie there are new. She sees priests in white robes speaking with the family of the l'Cie.

One priest says, "Anima will watch over her now," to a woman.

The woman clutches something to her chest, no doubt a keepsake of the crystal l'Cie that looks to be her sister.

Nearby, a boy tugs at his older brother's hand and asks, "When are Mommy and Daddy gonna wake up?"

The priest in black is about to usher the group out of the Chamber, but then a man suddenly grabs one of the priests in white and starts yelling at him.

"Let me bring my wife back!" he roars.

The people around them gasp and quickly back away. He's a tall man, taller than the priest in black, but he's thin and he looks so tired. He seems to realize the everyone has gone quiet and there are now many eyes on him, yet he doesn't let go. He then says that he begged the elders of his clan and the leaders of his village to allow him to keep his wife, but they refused.

"She's done her focus! She turned to crystal just weeks after she gave birth to our daughter," he chokes, his hands trembling, "and now you're taking her away?"

The priest in black is suddenly at his side – he's fast, he had moved so fast – and shoves the man away from the other priest. The man stumbles but manages to stay on his feet.

"Taking her away?" the priest in black snorts. "You don't believe she'll ever awaken from crystal sleep."

"I..." the man stutters. "My daughter, she... she always talks to my wife whenever she comes home from school... tells her about her day, tells her everything, tells her more than I'll ever know." He bites back a sob and shuts his eyes, then he starts begging: "Please, let her have her mother back."

Vanille can't look at the man anymore, not when he's reminding her that she never had a chance to talk to her own father before she lost him. She looks at Fang instead, hoping that Fang will hold her just the way she likes and say exactly what she needs to hear.

But Fang is shaking, and Vanille can see – can finally see – the anger that's always been there and she doesn't, can't understand why she almost lets go, why she almost runs away.

The priest in black doesn't answer and returns to the group.

The man looks around the room, silently asking for help. He turns to the ones who are suffering like him, but they're already hanging their heads.

Vanille squeezes Fang's hand so much it hurts.

"Fang, I want to go outside."

She tries again and again until Fang look at her.

"Fang, please," she whispers, not to be quiet, but because she's almost crying. "Let's go outside."

She leans in, and Fang finally holds her and says, "Okay."

* * *

It takes only a few steps away from the Temple before Vanille feels bad that she's still holding the bouquet. She feels worse that it's not enough to make her turn around and go back.

She notices that Fang's also staring at the bouquet.

"I'll do it," Fang decides, already reaching for the flowers.

"No," Vanille says too quickly, too soon. "Stay here."

She can't let Fang go back in there. She doesn't want to see Fang like that again.

"I'll hurry back."

She shakes her head, forces a smile.

"It's fine. I'm fine."

But Fang doesn't believe her, and now it's quiet and Vanille feels alone for the first time in her life. She wants to look down, away from those green eyes that see only her; there's nothing else in those eyes when Fang looks at her and it's too much right now.

Vanille catches Fang's hand before it's out of reach. She feels Fang wince.

"I'm sorry," she murmurs.

"It's okay."

Those words don't make her feel better this time, and she doesn't think a hug would, either.

She doesn't move when Fang takes one of the flowers: a nightglow, one of her favorites. It's the first flower she remembers seeing when they were taken to Oerba four years ago.

Fang breaks off the stem and Vanille feels a little tickle when Fang tucks the nightglow behind her ear.

"_Don't be sad,"_ those green eyes tell her.

Vanille doesn't fake her next smile.

**.**

**Note:**

- Boco is a recurring chocobo name in the Final Fantasy series.


	3. Part 3

**.**

_On this day, the tragedy fell, and two seeds were planted in the earth._

- Episode Zero: Tomorrow

**Apply Standard Disclaimers Here**

**.**

**Odds and Ends  
War Blossoms, Part 3  
By: E.G. Szyslak** [02/15/11-04/06/11]

**.**

**Six**

Fang tries to stay still as the matron puts ointment on the wounds on her back. She runs a hand through her hair, still wet from the bath she's just taken, and then she rubs the back of her neck. It's pointless; she's squirming a few seconds later. She's uncomfortable, but this is something she can't do by herself and Vanille's not around to tend to her.

"Not much longer now," the matron soothes her, calms her enough to make her stop fidgeting.

She drops her hand to her lap and thumbs the fresh bandages on her palm.

"Gorgonopsid?" the matron guesses.

She shakes her head.

"Armadillon," she says.

Gorgonopsids are easy game for her, the matron should know that. The matron should know that she has her eye on other things – things like daemons and oretoises and behemoths – the likes of which she'll be ready to fight soon because every day, she's getting better. Every day, she's getting stronger.

But right now, it seems like all matron sees is the eleven-year-old girl with the broken ribs and the broken arm, and it reminds her of the way Vanille looks at her sometimes.

_That was five years ago,_ she wants to say, wants to show and prove.

"Were you by yourself?" the matron asks, sounding like she already knows the answer.

Fang just nods.

"Left the spoils to scavengers?"

She almost grunts at the question.

"Yes," she sighs instead.

The matron isn't about to scold her or lecture her, isn't about to tell her to stop going off alone.

"_You're too stubborn,"_ she's been told.

She doesn't say that a murder of giant crows swooped in as soon as the armadillon stopped twitching under her spear, that she didn't even have a chance to take at least a tooth or a claw, that all she could do after the kill was grab her weapon and get out of there.

If not crows, the horde would have been wolves, wildcats or gorgonopsids along with goblins and spooks, or maybe even a behemoth. It would have been stupid to stay and fight – but she wanted to; she almost did – and it's not like she could drag a kill that big and heavy all the way back to Oerba while fending off other predators.

_Not yet,_ she tells herself, she reminds herself.

She also reminds herself that she's done something like that before: something stupid, something worse. She's been told – again – she's lucky to have survived that fight against the ochu, even luckier to have made a full recovery, but she doesn't care about that. It's been a year and she still thinks about the sleepless nights in the hospital. She still thinks about how she made Vanille cry.

"That's a shame," the matron says, patting her shoulder then moving on to dressing her wounds. "I know a few blacksmiths who are quite desperate to get their hands on some scales. You could have traded for cobaltite, have that bladed lance you've been wanting made..."

Fang blinks. The matron does and says things she least expects, almost as much as Vanille does.

"On my next hunt, then," she decides.

"Ask Orvin and Raya to come with you, perhaps? Maybe a few other hunters, as well. Even with just a share of the pickings, it'd be more than enough."

Fang hesitates.

"Maybe," she mutters. She hesitates again, then says, "Moriel said he'll give me a Kain if I beat him in a fight."

"Did he, now?" the matron chimes, and Fang could tell she's smiling. "Does he make this absurd offer to all of his students?"

"Yes, but he's never lost."

"Well, you tell that mentor of yours that he better be ready to hand over that weapon _when_ he loses you," the matron says, sounding much like a proud mother.

It makes Fang grin a lot more than she realizes.

"There," the matron murmurs. "You're all patched up."

Fang shifts and turns around.

"Thank you, Yeta."

The matron smiles at her.

"You're welcome, Fang."

She smiles back and starts to put a shirt on.

"You go on ahead; no need to help me put these away," the matron tells her. "Vanille should still be at the farm with Alden."

She stops suddenly.

Alden, she thinks, Oerba Reu Alden: the matron's nephew, Vanille's friend, and a l'Cie, one of many branded over the past weeks.

Fang pulls the shirt down. She wonders if the matron has gone outside recently, wonders if the matron already knows. She sees the matron placing the gauze, tape, and ointment back into the box that she's seen so many times.

"An ark airship here," she says simply, bluntly, not knowing how else to say it.

An airship from the First Ark has come to Oerba to take the new l'Cie away.

The matron looks at her, as if not hearing what she just said, as if not wanting to believe that she said it at all.

* * *

Fang finds Vanille walking alone in the streets, away from the farm that belongs to Alden's family. Vanille sees her, then hurries over and hugs her. It takes only a moment before she hears Vanille gasp, feels her about to pull away.

"Fang, you're hurt-"

"It's not bad," she cuts in, holding Vanille and keeping her close. "Where are you going?"

"Home," Vanille says, almost whispers. "Alden and I saw the airship. We were at the store and people were talking about it, then they saw his brand and started asking him all these questions, saying all these things. We went outside, went to see for ourselves, and it was there, near the Temple..." she trails off and shakes her head. "He's talking to his family now. I have to tell Matron."

Fang is surprised then, when Vanille is suddenly out of her arms and running past her. She easily catches up and grabs Vanille's wrist.

"I already told her."

Vanille stops.

"You saw it, too?"

"Yeah, I did, when I got back."

Fang loosens her grip as she answers, letting her hand slip down to Vanille's. After a while, Vanille squeezes her hand and nods. They start heading back to the orphanage. Fang is quiet, feeling helpless, feeling useless. No matter how it ends, Vanille is going to lose a friend and the matron is going to lose a nephew, and she can't change that.

At the end of the week, the airship leaves. Fang wakes up in the middle of the night because Vanille is crying.

Within the next two years, the other orphans are branded and taken away: first Safiyah, then Wynn and Irvette, then Orvin. Vanille's nightmares come back; Fang barely sleeps because of it. Every night, she holds Vanille and tells her the same thing over and over, makes the same promise again and again.

"I'm still here, Vanille," she would say. "You'll always have me."

She says it every night, but it's not enough anymore.

**.**

**Seven**

Fang sits on the ground, getting a little dirt and blood on her clothes. She's panting, but just a bit. The cut on her lip stings; it's bleeding. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, then she puts her bladed lance on her lap, never taking her eyes off Raya. Her foot nudges something: Raya's sword. She grabs it.

A quick, "Catch," is the only warning she gives before she tosses the sword, and Raya does catch it, like always.

Raya uses the sword to pull herself up and get to her feet. She's winded and worn out, but she's smiling.

"A fight like that, and all I give you is a puny nick on the lip?" she wheezes, shaking her head. "I'd have fared better against a pack of starved, rutting ugallus."

Fang grins. One more quip out of Raya and she would be smug and smirking.

"Another round, yeah?" she asks eagerly.

Raya seems like she's about to say yes, but she laughs instead.

"I realize my judgment can be... questionable when it comes to you," she drawls, still a little out of breath, "but as shocking as this may be for you to know, Fang, I _do_ have a sense of self-preservation. So, I must refuse and walk away, if I can even manage that... I can scarcely stand on my own feet!"

Fang's already smirking.

"Sit down, then?"

Raya laughs again.

"Cheeky whelp."

Fang narrows her eyes when Raya approaches her. She scowls, knowing exactly what Raya's about to do and daring her to go through with it. She looks up and she's about to say something unpleasant, maybe even threaten to bite, but before she could even get a word out, Raya puts a hand on her head and ruffles her hair.

"Bloody-!" she growls, knocking Raya's hand away. "What the hell was that for?"

"Your temper, Fang, seems to have grown with the rest of you, and, my, how you've grown!" Raya says, sitting beside her and grinning at her. "It's hard to believe you used to be this little nuisance that followed us whenever we were after big game. You were already causing trouble even before you started hunting with us."

Fang snorts.

"Fine hunters, the lot of you. Couldn't even tell you had a kid on your tail."

"Yes, yes," Raya easily agrees. "You always were a sneak, Yun."

Fang blinks; there's something different about the way Raya says Yun this time. It makes her think about her clan, of what little she understands and what more she'll never know. It makes her feel restless, makes her want to leave Oerba and see the rest of Gran Pulse: see how much of it has changed and see if she can survive in it, live in it.

She's eighteen now, turning nineteen soon. She wonders if she is what a Yun is supposed to be.

She touches her left shoulder. It's bare, has no mark. She doesn't know what kind of mark she's earned, doesn't know what kind of mark she deserves.

On her right arm is a snakeskin armband, her first trophy: Vanille made it for her, made it from the giant snake that she fought and killed when it attacked Oerba a year ago. She then looks at her lance and reads the name 'Oerba Yun Fang' on the blades. She thumbs the word 'Oerba' and frowns.

_It's wrong,_ she thinks. _It's all wrong._

She has to remind herself again that Vanille made the armband for her, that the lance was a birthday gift from Vanille, Yeta and the older orphans, before they were taken away.

Raya nudges her, and she's not sure if it's gentle or just weak.

"I have fond memories," Raya tells her, "of dragging you back home and listening to my proud, brave father stutter to your dear, sweet matron that you were nearly trampled by oretoises or flattened by an ochu, or that you hopped on a wyvern's back and got chased by a greatwyrm. Such _fond_ memories. Feels like so long ago, doesn't it?"

Fang nods. It really has been a long time. Raya's the head hunter of Oerba now, not her father, who's more known these days as a l'Cie of the Eleventh Ark, and not any of her brothers, who, like a few others, sought fal'Cie to be branded. Fang has bested every fighter she's ever challenged, even l'Cie from up to the Eighth Ark, but she can't forget that she never did beat her mentor when she had the chance a year ago.

_._

"_You're going to an Ark?" she snarls and glares at her mentor, suddenly forgetting that she just lost yet another fight. "What for? To get branded?"_

_Moriel holds out a hand to help her stand, but she gets to her feet on her own. He frowns at her._

"_The priests have asked me to help train the l'Cie in the arks," he says, then stops her before she can talk back. "Fang, you should know by now, better than anyone, that just having power isn't enough. Just being a l'Cie isn't enough. It's why only a few actually make it to battle; most perish in the arks."_

"_You're going to turn into one of them, then?" she demands. _"_Leave your students? Leave Yeta?"_

_Moriel doesn't answer, not out loud, and Fang's thinking – promising – she will never, ever do that because she doesn't want Vanille to cry over her crystal corpse every ten years._

_._

Raya nudges her again, this time with the hilt of the sword.

"Don't forget: we leave at dawn tomorrow."

"I remember," she mumbles.

"And don't forget to tell Vanille."

Fang stares at Raya.

"She's not coming with us."

"No?" Raya echoes, frowning at first, then sighing. "That's too bad. I've grown so accustomed to having Vanille around on our long hunting trips. It's been like that the past... two years, is it? Yes, almost two years. What's keeping her home?"

"Doesn't want to leave the kids," Fang replies, and it almost sounds like she's grumbling.

She wouldn't have been in any of those long hunting trips if not for Vanille's insistence. She would have stayed in the orphanage so she could hold Vanille until she falls asleep.

It's been two weeks since Vanille told her that the new orphans are family to her now, like how Safiyah, Wynn, Irvette and Orvin are – were – family. It's been two weeks since Vanille's been able to sleep better and easier, and Fang's sure Vanille's going to be fine if she's gone for a little while.

"Should have expected as much from Little Matron," Raya remarks, and it's only now that Fang realizes just how well the nickname suits Vanille.

"She's very impressive with a rod. No one catches wyverns quite like you two," Raya murmurs. "But I have to say, I'll miss her cooking and smiles the most."

"Yeah," she says, "me, too."

"And she killed a bear, saved my life. Let's not forget that," Raya chimes, beaming. "I'm going to have something made from its pelt. Do you think she'd like it?"

"I hope so," Fang mumbles, looking sour, "maybe she'd wear it over her skirt, give men less to see."

Raya laughs.

"With you around, whelp, the most a man can do to Little Matron is look. Who can fault them, really? She's an attractive young woman with an endearing personality."

Fang sneers.

"Her endearing personality isn't on her bloody legs."

"You realize you'd be dooming the Dia line to end with Vanille if you keep this up," Raya teases. "I could say the same for you, in fact. When will you consider letting some romance into your life, hm?"

"When Cocoon falls out of the sky," Fang drawls.

"Ah, you're no fun sometimes, Yun," Raya tells her. "Life can't be all about chasing oretoises and riding wyverns."

Fang grins. It's a proud grin, almost smug.

"What, you don't think that's fun?"

Raya shakes her head, looking amused.

"So, then, do you feel like leading this upcoming hunt, Fang?"

She snorts.

"Funny."

She can't do it. She can barely work with the other hunters; she doesn't trust or respect them enough, if at all.

The other hunters, like most people in Gran Pulse, are becoming cowards and fools: cowards who beseech Anima to keep them safe from the Culling, _"From 'Lindzei,"_ they would say; fools who do nothing but wait for the next l'Cie to be branded and hope it's enough of a sacrifice, enough of an offering to end the war. They hide in Oerba, afraid of the world outside that's supposed to be their home, and they entrust their lives to a fal'Cie as if they don't know how to fend for themselves anymore. They're no different from the people of Cocoon.

Raya sighs dramatically.

"Who shall take my stead when I'm blessed and crippled with pregnancy?"

Fang blinks, then bursts into loud, obnoxious laughter.

"Never going to happen!"

Raya sighs again.

"You are a rotten little beast."

* * *

Fang walks Raya to her house and gets to the orphanage well before dinner. There's noise coming from the kitchen. Four kids – three boys, one girl – run to greet her. She notes that two others aren't around, which is odd since she's usually swarmed by all six.

"Fang's home!" the girl squeals and clings to her waist.

"Hey, Fang, Vanille showed me where to put your lance!" a boy brags. "Want me to do it for you?"

Fang holds her weapon away just as a small, chubby hand makes a grab for it. She's about to say no and remind them Yeta and Vanille wouldn't approve.

"Liar!" another boy growls, pushing the other boy away. "Vanille couldn't have shown you! I spent almost the whole day with her and we were fishing and picking flowers. We brought Bhakti and took pictures! I even gave some flowers to Matron so you'll know I'm telling the truth! Fang, Fang! He's lying! He always lies! He's gonna use your lance to scare me and make me give him the top bunk!"

"I'm not lying! I saw where Vanille was going to put it last time," the first boy hisses. "It's the same thing!"

"No, it isn't! Fang, let me do it. I'll ask Vanille and she'll tell me!"

"Yes, it is! And, hey, I asked her first!"

"You two are stupid," the third boy snaps. "Why do you think they hide it? 'Cause they don't want us to find it! No way they're gonna tell you where!"

Fang almost praises the kid but manages to stop herself the last second. He'll probably think she's encouraging the name-calling.

"Hey, hey!" she barks, effectively quieting the boys down. "Okay, you brats, if you're all so eager," she starts to say, making sure her lance is still out of reach, "you can have my old spears, but," she quickly adds, "only if Yeta and Vanille allow it."

All three boys gape at her, and then, one by one, they start grinning.

"Really? You mean it, Fang?"

"I'll ask Vanille. She's gonna say yes if I do it!"

"What? Why does it have to be you?"

"'Cause she likes me best, that's why! She even let me use her binding rod today!"

"That's because you act like a _girl_. That's a girl's weapon!"

"At least I'm not a liar! And now I'm gonna be learning how to use two weapons, _hah_!"

"_Stupid._ Both of you are so stupid."

Fang ignores the rest of the bickering and looks at the girl still latched onto her. The girl smiles sweetly and keeps hugging her, giggling.

"Boys are so silly," she girl cooes.

Fang chuckles.

"Sure are."

The noise from the kitchen gets louder. Fang looks up in time to see Yeta walking up to them. The boys stop arguing and two of them try to smile innocently while the third calls them stupid yet again.

"All right, children, that's enough for now," Yeta says. "Let's give Fang some time for herself before dinner. You can talk all you want after we eat."

There's a loud, "Aww," and then different kinds of, "Yes, Matron."

The boys move along, and they can't even wait until they're out of sight before they start yelling at each other again. The girl remains attached to Fang's waist and is now pouting at her.

"Am I getting a spear, too?"

Fang pats the girl's head, grinning.

"Only if you want it."

"I do, I do!" the girl exclaims, then finally lets her go and runs off screaming, "Fang's giving me a spear, yay!"

Yeta watches the girl leave, then turns to her with a smile.

"I see there's much to talk about after dinner."

Fang just keeps grinning, then she gives Yeta all the money she's earned from today's hunt.

"Thank you, Fang," Yeta whispers, taking the money then squeezing her hand before she pulls away.

Fang nods, but she thinks it's strange that Yeta keeps acting like it's something she doesn't have to do, as if she could just take Vanille and walk away. This is what Vanille wants – living in the orphanage, living with the matron and the orphans – so there's no reason for them to be anywhere else.

"But, Vanille, I wanna cut the veggies!"

"Vanille, is the water hot enough? I'm gonna check!"

Fang turns to the direction of the voices, eyebrows raised. Yeta says something about curious children and cooking being a health hazard. Fang quickly goes to put her lance away and follows Yeta into the kitchen. Vanille is there with the two orphans not present earlier.

"- so don't put your hand in boiling water, okay?" Vanille finishes telling the frowning little girl.

Fang sees the boy sulking by the fridge and staring at the knives on the counter, guessing he's just been told why he shouldn't hold the pointy end of sharp objects. Vanille notices her and smiles, looking tired but happy. The two kids also notice her and happily scramble over to her like Vanille hasn't been chiding them.

"Fang, we're helping Matron and Vanille cook dinner!" the boy declares.

"I picked what soup to make!" the girl says. "It's oretoise, 'cause I know you love it."

"And your portion's extra salty," Vanille adds.

"Extra salty!" the girl chirps.

Fang laughs, then smiles when she sees Vanille come over for a hug. She holds out her arms expectantly, but Vanille stops just out of reach.

"What? What's wrong?" she asks, tilting her head.

Vanille puts her hands on her hips.

"No hugs when you're all dirty, Fang, you know that."

Fang blinks, and when she hears the kids snicker and sees Yeta trying not to smile, she frowns.

"But I want my hug."

Vanille huffs.

"Don't be cute. It's not going to work."

"Yeah?" Fang drawls, now smirking at the challenge. "Well, I'm getting my hug whether you like it or not."

She takes one step forward, and Vanille quickly brandishes a ladle to defend herself.

"You think that's going to stop me?" Fang taunts, chuckling maniacally.

The girl runs up to her.

"I'll give you a hug, Fang!"

Vanille shakes her head and puts away the ladle, but she's smiling now.

"You kids are spoiling Fang."

Fang grins and easily picks up the girl, who happily gets snug in her arms. She notices that the girl is holding something: it's Boco, the plush chocobo Vanille made and named for her five years ago. She shakes her head and tries not to think about it too much, tries not to wonder if it means Vanille can move on from her – if Vanille will replace her – like she's done with Safiyah, Wynn, Irvette and Orvin.

The boy is given a snack so he'll sit still. Yeta and Vanille go back to cooking.

"You two better be clean by the time dinner's ready," Vanille tells her.

Fang's quiet for a while, and before she can answer, there's a loud knock on the door.

"Visitors at this hour? Strange," Yeta says, washing her hands and heading for the door.

Fang turns, about to leave the kitchen, but then the visitor speaks.

"Oerba Reu Yeta, I believe. I trust there is no need for further introductions."

"Of course not, Your Reverence," she hears Yeta say. "To what do we owe this visit?"

Someone else answers.

"We are here for Oerba Yun Fang and Oerba Dia Vanille."

Fang tenses. She knows that voice: it's the priest from the Temple.

"Your Reverence, I don't understand..."

She doesn't wait to hear the rest of what Yeta says. She moves, hurries over to Vanille and puts the girl down.

"Vanille," she whispers, "get the kids and hide. Don't make a sound. Don't come out until I say so."

"Fang-"

She's doesn't wait; she's already out of the kitchen and running to Yeta.

"Insolent woman!" yet another voice screeches. "Who are _you_ to demand-"

The talking stops. The priests see her. There's five of them: the two priests at the back are wearing white robes, one is in red, the other is in purple, and at the front is the priest in black. They're looking at her like they've seen her before, like they know who she is.

Yeta is looking at her like she shouldn't be there.

"Come with us," the priest in the black robe says. "Where is the other girl?" he asks Yeta.

Fang growls.

"What do you want?"

They're surprised by her tone, by her disrespect.

"An atrocity! This is an atrocity!" the priest in purple hisses at Yeta; he's the one who's been yelling at her. "Is this how you raise children here in the orphanage? Do you feed them spite and lies on these cheap platters? Better for this place to be torn down than have you poisoning the minds of our youth!"

He swings his arms wildly at Yeta, almost hits her.

Fang lunges – she's going to knock him down, get Yeta away from him – but the priest in black is closer and shoves Yeta aside, away from her. The two priests in white get in the way, coming at her fast and forcing her to the ground. She can throw them off easily but she doesn't struggle, doesn't even think to do it. She's only aware of Yeta hitting the wall – hitting her head – and Yeta falling at the priest's feet.

The priest in purple looks down on her.

"Filthy mongrel," he mutters in disgust.

He goes to search the house – Fang hears doors slammed, glass breaking and beds knocked over – but he quickly comes back: alone and annoyed.

"I cannot find her!"

The priest in red steps forward. He's almost as slight as the priest in purple, nothing like the hulking priest in black, but he's clearly in charge.

"Oerba Yun Fang," he drones, and she immediately recognizes him as the first person who spoke earlier. "It's a terrible thing, is it not, growing up in a world plagued by war, death and tragedy? Tell me, child, do you ever wish to put an end to it all? The Culling? Lindzei? Yes, of course you do. The opportunity, the _power_, the _privilege_ to bring peace back to Gran Pulse, who would not seize it?"

Fang's not listening. She's staring at Yeta, watching, worrying.

The priest in red keeps talking.

"The riches of our land have been ripped from the very earth and left only ruin covered in the blood of innocents. Lindzei's brood spills by the thousands from that cursed nest in the sky. They raze our villages, butcher our people. Gran Pulse weeps for a savior! For years we have searched, for years we have waited, but no one was worthy: those souls were weak, greedy and evil."

He pauses to look at her, to smile at her like she's supposed to be happy.

"But today, oh, _today_! Today is a joyous day, for Anima has blessed us. Anima has answered our prayers. Anima has chosen our savior, and it is you, child- you, Oerba Yun Fang and Oerba Dia Vanille! You are the Chosen! It is your focus, _your fate_ to cast down Cocoon and deliver Gran Pulse peace at last!"

Yeta tries to get up.

"You can't mean that, Your Reverence!"

The priest in black sneers.

"You are questioning the will of Anima. Your faith is as feeble as your body."

Yeta grabs the priest's arm. She's on her knees and pleading with him, begging for them as she had begged for the other orphans.

"Your Reverence, please, they're just two girls. This is cruel!"

He shrugs her off his arm.

"Where is the other girl?" he asks again. "Where is she hiding?"

It's getting harder and harder for Fang to stay still. The priests holding her are putting more pressure, pinning her harder to the ground, as if they're afraid she's going to lash out any second. It's still not enough to keep her down. They're weak, but she can't fight, not when Yeta is still there, not when they can hurt Yeta again, not when they can kill Yeta.

She can't fight.

"Take me," she says, she offers. "Just take me. I'll do it myself."

"That is not up to you, child," the priest in red tells her. "Anima has already decided. It must be you two."

"Anima has done nothing!" she roars, almost throwing off the priests holding her down. "The fal'Cie have done nothing but turn you all into idiots. How did you even know about its choice? Did Anima speak to you? Then talk back and tell the fal'Cie to finish this war themselves. They don't need l'Cie to bring Cocoon down!"

"The audacity..." the priest in purple mutters. "Your clan of arrogant mutts never fails to make my stomach turn. It's fortunate you're the last."

The priest in red ignores her.

The priest in black repeats the same question to Yeta.

"Where is the other girl?"

Yeta still doesn't answer. The priest in purple scoffs at her.

"Look at you, so invested, so committed! It's sickening how much you care about them. Well, then, if you care so much, you should be more than happy to hand these two over to us! When they fulfill this focus, the rest of these wretched orphans don't have to become l'Cie. It's a small, small price to pay."

"No!" Yeta cries. "You're not taking any more of my children!"

The priest in purple howls in outrage.

"You do _not_ touch me!"

The next thing Fang sees is a blinding flash and then she hears a scream – loud, so loud – that barely sounds like Yeta. When she blinks, when she can see again, Yeta is on the floor, trembling, twitching like she can't stop and gasping, nearly choking on her own breath. The priest in purple is standing over her. His hand is glowing, sparks at the tips of his fingers.

Fang knows what that is; she's fought enough l'Cie to know a lightning spell when she sees it.

The priest in purple uses his other hand to brush his sleeve, the part of his robe that Yeta held. He scoffs again.

"You really are a foolish woman. These aren't your children! Even if Anima had not chosen them, they would have become l'Cie like all the orphans before them. That's all they're good for! But I waste my breath on you and my patience only goes so far," he hisses, and the spell he holds changes, turns into flames. "I will _burn_ this house if you have me search for her again!"

Fang sees the sparks turn into fire. Yeta looks at her, and she's seen that look before, from Vanille's mother.

_Run,_ is what Yeta's telling her. _Take Vanille and run._

It should have been an easy thing to do. It should have been so easy.

"No! Please stop!"

Fang freezes.

"Vanille, don't-" she tries to say, but Vanille's already walking past her and approaching the priest in red.

"I-I'll go," she hears Vanille stutter, and she can tell that Vanille's trying not to cry. "I'll go, just please... please don't hurt anyone anymore. Please."

The priest in red nods.

"Very well, child."

The priest in purple just shrugs. The flames in his hand disappear.

The priest in black casts a healing spell on Yeta.

"It did not have to come to this," he says.

Fang just stares as Vanille checks on Yeta. The priests in white let her go but she doesn't move, even when Vanille goes to her and hugs her.

"Vanille-" she tries again, but that's all Vanille lets her say.

"It's okay, Fang," Vanille whispers that promise to her. "As long as you're with me, it's okay."

The priests in white pull them apart and take them outside.

**.**

**Eight**

Vanille is quiet, has been since they entered the Temple. Fang doesn't like it.

An airship from the First Ark is outside, ready for them, waiting for them. People are gathered around the Temple like today is the festival. The priest in red is standing at the entrance and speaking to the crowd, preaching as if he still has to, as if these people aren't stupid enough.

"... and from these very doors, the Chosen shall emerge, the focus of Anima bestowed upon them!"

When the priest is finally done talking, the people cheer loudly, selfishly. Fang ignores it, but Vanille is upset. Fang wants to hold Vanille and tell her not to be scared, tell her not to worry because it's going to be all right. But she can't, not when the priests are watching and listening.

She has to play along. The priests need to keep believing she's not going to put up a fight.

The doors are closed and the two of them are told to follow. The priest in red is up front, the priest in black is at the back and the priest in purple is in the middle, between them. Vanille is on the left and Fang is on the right.

The priests are holding spears. Fang wonders if it's just for show, like the staves at the festival, like the golden robes she and Vanille have been made to wear.

They walk into a hall that Fang doesn't remember seeing last time because it's supposed to be a dead end. They stop at the bottom of a long staircase. At the top of the stairs is a door with a symbol that looks like a l'Cie brand.

They climb the stairs. The priests stop and pray after every thirteenth step; this is done thirteen times. Every time, Vanille stares at her feet while Fang stares at the door ahead.

When they reach the top, the priests kneel and pray. The l'Cie brand symbol on the door glows red, its eye opens and so does the door.

Fang notices another door to the right, and yet another to the left, but she only spares them a glance. She keeps looking ahead. The open door leads to another hall, and at the end of it is another staircase. The priest in red starts walking and they follow.

* * *

_Later, when it is done, a priest wearing white robes steps out of the Temple, spear in hand._

"_My brothers and sisters," he says to the anxious crowd, "know that it was seven years ago when a fal'Cie of Lindzei's touched Gran Pulse soil for the first time. Know that it was seven years ago when the village of Cheis became nothing more than a hollow grave for souls that shall never find rest. It was the first Culling, the first of many, many more. It was the first of many, many loses. Even today, our lands are stolen, our people are slaughtered!"_

_A mix of anguished howls and angry roars come from the crowd. The priest raises his hand and demands silence._

"_Gran Pulse weeps for a savior!" he repeats the words of the priest in red. "For years we have searched, for years we have waited. Great warriors and scholars alike sought to be worthy of the focus of Anima, yet all of them failed the trials. Their hearts did not contain strength, honor and the holy spirit, no. Their hearts held weakness, greed and evil. They were not worthy."_

_He lowers his spear, striking the floor._

"_Also know this, my brothers and sisters," he says, "it was seven years ago when Anima guided us to they who lived through the Culling of Cheis. Two children, they were, found on the outskirts of Oerba. A miracle brought to our doorstep! Today, they entered the Temple as the Chosen and a miracle has happened once again. They were accepted by the gate of beginnings for they are strong. They were accepted by the gate of the center for they are honorable."_

* * *

The next door also has a symbol that looks like a l'Cie brand. It, too, glows, the eye of the brand opening as does the door. They pass through the door. They walk into yet another hall and come to yet another staircase.

When they reach the top, it's different. The three priests still kneel and pray, and there are still doors to the right and to the left, but the door in front of them is bigger than the other two and it's being guarded by ten priests wearing white robes and holding spears. There's a strange kind of dust floating in the air, glimmering like crystal.

As the priests pray, Fang looks at Vanille.

She thinks of the orphanage, of Yeta and the kids, how the kids are probably crying and how miserable Yeta must be. It's her fault. She couldn't protect them, couldn't even fight for them.

It won't be like that this time.

Vanille looks at her and smiles sadly.

Fang tries to smile back.

The three priests finish praying and stand up. The eye of the l'Cie brand symbol glows just like the other two and the door opens. The ten priests in white step aside. The priest in red is the first to enter the chamber. Fang and Vanille, along with the priest in purple, are next, and the priest in black is last. The other priests remain outside. The door closes.

There's Anima, at the very center of the chamber. It doesn't look impressive or intimidating: nothing at all like Titan, and not even close to Atomos or Bismarck. It's fused to a larger metal structure like it's just another part of the Temple. It looks stuck, and how fitting that is for a fal'Cie that has done absolutely nothing all these years.

They follow the priests and approach Anima as they're told. The priest in red stands before Anima, and the priest in purple stands to his left while the priest in black stands to his right. Fang almost can't believe the priests have actually turned their backs on her.

The three priests kneel, put their spears down and lift their hands up.

Now that she and Vanille are this close, Fang can see that Anima has almost a human shape, a torso, one arm. It seems to have a head, but it has no face.

"Anima," the priest in red calls out, his hands still raised. "We have delivered to your chamber the Chosen."

Anima doesn't move, doesn't respond.

Fang holds an arm in front of Vanille, slowly backing up and leading her away from the priests.

"Your Chosen, Anima!" the priest in red goes on. "They who you have chosen on the very day Cheis was culled. It was on that day Dahaka came to us three high priests and tasked us with a focus: to bring to you your Chosen should you desire it. You have asked, Anima, and your Chosen you have received. They who you have chosen to bear the Burden of the Beast! "

"We have delivered, Anima!" the priest in purple exclaims. "We have fulfilled our focus!"

A glow bursts from the front of the priests' bodies, where their brands probably are, and patches of clear liquid spread all over their exposed forearms and hands.

Fang snarls, rushing at the priests. She won't let them turn to crystal. It's too good a death for them.

Only the priest in black sees her coming but he's too slow. She shoves the priest in purple, grabs his spear and then blocks the priest in black as he swings at her. She pushes him back roughly, almost knocks him off his feet. He flails and she rams the spear into his chest. She takes his weapon and whips around before his body hits the ground.

She doesn't notice that Anima's faceless head turns to her, that it looks at her. Anima is watching her.

The priest in purple is still sprawled on the floor; Fang's been moving that fast. She stabs his leg, driving the spear through him and nailing him to the floor.

"H-how-how dare you!" the priest in red stutters, and she can barely hear him through the other priest's screams.

He tries to fend her off with magic, tries to stop her or slow her down with spells, but it's weak, like him, like all three of them. He can barely move his crystallizing body. She stalks over to him, easily dodging whatever spell he throws at her. He takes a swing at her, mimicking the priest in black, and just like before, she catches the weapon, only now with her bare hands.

Fang grips the spear and starts to force the blade to his neck. He tries to hold her off.

"Stop this at once!" he commands her, but it sounds more like he's pleading the more she overpowers him. "Anima will not stand for this! Anima will not tolerate a sin this great! Anima will-"

She slits his throat, not letting him finish.

Anima isn't doing anything. Anima won't do anything.

Fang goes back to the priest in purple, taking the spear with her. He's not screaming anymore. He's freed his leg and he's trying to cast healing spells. He's only using one hand; his other hand has crystallized. He sees her and he's afraid of her, but it's nothing like the way Yeta was afraid of him: it's nothing like a mother afraid of her losing her children.

"Mercy! Spare me!" he begs, but she keeps moving, keeps coming at him. "I've done my focus! I deserve my eternal reward!"

He's crawling away from her, crawling toward Anima.

"Anima, help me! Please!" he cries, reaching out to the fal'Cie with his able hand. "Protect me, Anima! Save me! Please, please!"

She breaks his arm with the spear and kicks him until he rolls on his back. She grabs him by the neck, effortlessly lifting him off the ground. He sobs and chokes and begs some more, desperately nudging her fingers with his crystallized hand. She sneers and tightens her grip.

Crystal is starting to cover his face. He's getting heavier. He's about to turn to crystal.

She snaps his neck before it happens.

She sees Anima stir. The crystal on its chest glows, then suddenly, it releases a bright, blinding light.

Fang looks up and blinks. The lights have gone out; she can't see a thing. The floor is gone, the Temple is gone. She's somewhere else, floating in a strange, dark place.

"Vanille!" she calls out. "Vanille!"

Then something – ropes, feels like ropes – grab her, take the spear away. She struggles, swinging her arms wildly and kicking hard with her feet, but the strange ropes hold her still, the grip on her tightening. She can't get rid of them, can't even touch them.

A sound fills the space, the sound of bells tolling. A light flashes but it doesn't last long, then it comes back and then it goes again. The bells keep tolling. Under the flickering light, Fang sees Vanille, eyes closed and ears covered.

"Vanille!" she yells, thrashing, trying to drag the ropes with her to get to Vanille.

Vanille stops shaking, seeming to hear her, and then slowly looks up.

"Fang," she whimpers. "Fang, what's going on? Where are we? What's happening?"

Fang tries to get closer, tries to reach for Vanille's hand.

The flickering light stops, and so do the bells. From above there's a new light, and Fang sees something large floating over them. The glow gets brighter and brighter until Fang can see that the ropes are connected to this thing, a fal'Cie, but not Anima. This fal'Cie has a body, two arms, a face, and it's smiling at her.

More of those ropes come out, this time towards Vanille. Fang's only able to touch Vanille's fingertips before the ropes wrap around Vanille and pull her away, pull them both higher up, towards the fal'Cie

"Let her go!" Fang snarls at the fal'Cie, at whatever this thing is. "Use me! I'll be your l'Cie!"

The sound of the bells get louder.

The fal'Cie holds out a massive hand, white light shooting from its palm, light that splits into two, going to each of them.

The ropes on Fang's body move and wrap tight around her right arm. The light hits her, shoots into her shoulder and it feels like her skin's being burned right off and split open, but the pain is nothing and forgotten when she hears Vanille scream.

Vanille is clutching her left thigh, screaming.

Fang jerks forward, fights against the tight restraints. She feels a pull at her arm and her shoulder and the pain gets worse but it doesn't matter; she doesn't care. She has to go to Vanille.

She can still stop this. She can still save Vanille.

The white light on her shoulder is fading. She sees Cocoon and an angry, howling beast, and there's more but she shakes her head and the images go away.

There's still time; it's not happening to Vanille yet.

Fang struggles and it hurts. Those ropes are still gripping her, but she keeps moving, keeps going and it hurts so much she loses the feeling in her arm. She can't feel her arm. She can't feel her arm, like it isn't there anymore.

All she's able to do is hold Vanille's hand before she passes out.

When she opens her eyes, she's sees the ceiling of Anima's chamber and she sees Vanille, covered in blood and crying. Vanille's calling her, sobbing her name. She hears a lot of other voices. There's five, maybe six priests in white surrounding them. Vanille's hands are on her shoulder – on her arm – and she can feel it, but barely.

Vanille's hands are glowing. Vanille's using magic. Vanille's a l'Cie.

* * *

"_They were accepted by the gate endings for their hearts contained the holy spirit," the priest in white tells the crowd._

_He lets go of his spear. The people remain silent._

"_By the sacrifice of the high priests, the Chosen have become l'Cie! Endowed are they with Anima's focus, to bear the Burden of the Beast!" he proclaims. "They left behind weakness and held close strength. They left behind greed and held close honor. They left behind evil and held close the holy spirit. They have received their power! They have received their focus!"_

_The priest raises his hands._

"_My brothers and sisters of Gran Pulse, honor the Chosen in your prayers! Let the blade forged of their will be tempered by your faith, that it might sunder that devilish Cocoon's facade!" he exclaims, and the people rejoice like the war's already been won._

**.**

**Note:**

In case it's confusing, the italicized scenes in Eight indicate that they happened after the scenes in the Temple.

Some of the priest's speech is either lifted or paraphrased from **Episode Zero: Tomorrow** (dilly-shilly . blogspot 2010 / 06 / episode-zero-tomorrow-it-was-on-that_13 . html) and **Analect III** (finalfantasy . wikia wiki / Datalog / Analects#III._The_Chosen)


	4. Part 4

**.**

_On this day, the tragedy fell, and two seeds were planted in the earth._

- Episode Zero: Tomorrow

**Apply Standard Disclaimers Here**

**.**

**Odds and Ends  
War Blossoms, Part 4  
By: E.G. Szyslak** [07/24/12-08/09/12]

**.**

**Nine**

Vanille looks out the window. There's not much else to do on the train. Beside her, Fang is quiet, probably thinking about where they're going and what they're about to face, probably not in the mood to talk. Fang doesn't talk much these days, and when she does, it's about training, fighting and focus, focus, focus.

"_The sooner we get through all thirteen Arks, the sooner we can do this focus,"_ Fang has said, as early as the day they were branded, with a right arm that was barely attached. _"If crystal sleep is the best thing I can do for you, then I will bloody well do it. I'm not letting you turn into a cie'th, Vanille."_

That promise scares her. Fang has killed three people for her. Fang has lost an arm for her. Vanille is afraid to think of what else Fang is willing to do, how far Fang is willing to go for her, all for her, all because of her.

Vanille's looking at Fang now. Fang notices and smiles at her, and she tries to smile back. It's convincing enough, she thinks, she's getting better at faking her smiles. She can't tell if Fang does the same thing. Fang doesn't lie. Fang doesn't pretend.

But that's because Fang doesn't really say anything, doesn't really show anything. Fang's smile right now, it's real, it's beautiful and it's for her, only for her. All those green eyes see is her.

Vanille looks away, back out the window. There's nothing to see out there, just the walls of the tunnel under the glare of bright, man-made lights. They're in the Fourth Ark, their fourth ark in four months. The arks, they're all the same, they're all prisons filled with living weapons, machines and monsters.

There are walls everywhere she looks, reminds her too much of Anima's Temple. Vanille misses the sun, misses being outside. She misses Oerba, the matron and the kids. She wants to go home with Fang. All she wants is to run away with Fang and go home.

Her brand burns, pulses along with her heart, warning her to stop. Don't think that way. Don't feel that way. Stop before more arrows show, before the eye opens. L'Cie have a focus, a purpose, and nothing else. No fear, no despair, not for l'Cie, especially not for the Chosen.

Vanille keeps her eyes closed until her mind is calm and her heart is steady. Her brand stops burning, and she tells herself to check it later when Fang's not around to see. It should only be lines with one arrow pointing down, like Fang's.

Discreetly, she places her hand over her brand. It's still a little hot, not warm like it's supposed to be, but the heat is fading. She shifts in the rags they've been made to wear. The clothes don't fit her. She's too small.

Again, Fang notices her, this time reaching for her hand.

"You okay?" Fang asks, and the guard standing by their seat looks at her.

Vanille tries another smile.

"I'm just a little tired," she lies, her eyes drawn to Fang's brand, to the arm she reattached with magic she hadn't known how to use and the scars left behind by fal'Cie that held Fang, scars that no magic can heal, that will always be there to remind her.

It haunts her, in her dreams, in her thoughts, the memory of holding Fang's severed arm in her hands and running with it, hurrying to put it back, and the blood, there was so much blood.

"Rest, then," Fang tells her, putting that arm around her. "I'll wake you when we get there."

The guard turns away, puts away the sedating drug used to calm down agitated l'Cie.

Vanille leans on Fang, again looking out the window. The ark trains run smoothly and quietly, so quiet she can hear the footsteps of the guards and the low murmurs of the other l'Cie. It's unnerving how little noise the train makes, so unlike the one in Oerba.

She wonders what Wynn thought of these ark trains. She wonders about Alden, about Safiyah, Irvette, Orvin and everyone else she knew who had turned into l'Cie, and she wonders what's become of them. There's no way to know. The arks don't keep any records of l'Cie, too many of them come and go, too many of them die or turn c'ieth.

Fang holds hers closer. She closes her eyes and tries to stop thinking about it.

* * *

They're given weapons and taken to a large chamber, the doors sealed shut behind them. A priest in white stands in the middle, beside him floats a strange, disfigured object. To the left are cie'th swinging mindlessly at the walls of their cage, and to the right is an enormous, six-legged machine, its loud roar shaking the ground.

"What the hell are you doing?" Fang snarls, the other l'Cie with them gasping in surprise. "Why are you keeping these cie'th alive? Put them out of their misery!"

"In time, Chosen," the white priest tells Fang. "Though they may have failed their focus, they are fit to serve another purpose. They can aid you, their once fellow l'Cie, you, the Chosen, to hone your skills in battle."

Vanille looks at the cie'th. She's never seen one before. Their faces have such tortured, agonized expressions, and they're screaming like they're in such unbearable pain. She clutches the belladonna wand given to her earlier and hides behind Fang. She can't fight them, she thinks, they used to be people, someone's child, someone's parent, someone's sibling, someone's friend, someone's lover.

"They used to be someone," she unknowingly whispers.

"Let them out," Fang demands, slamming down the dragoon lance with such force that the ground cracks and splits. "Open that bloody gate and let them out! I'll kill them myself!"

The other l'Cie flinch and cower at Fang's words, including Vanille.

"There is no need for that, Chosen," the priest says. "You can save them. You can still fulfill their focus."

Fang doesn't say anything, only bares her teeth and looks at the strange object floating next to the priest.

"Ah, I see you know what this is," the priest notes with delight. "This is a cie'th stone," he tells the rest of them, "a cie'th drained of all its strength and energy after years of wallowing in regret and failure. Their bodies have crumbled and twisted, but their voices ring clear."

The cie'th stone turns slowly to face them, like it's completely aware of its surroundings. Vanille looks at it, stares at what looks like half of a woman's body encased in crystal in a strangely tender pose, almost like it's cradling, embracing what's left of that cie'th, that person.

"Listen, l'Cie," the priest drones, "to the cry of this cie'th!"

The cie'th stone glows. Vanille feels her brand pulse. She touches it and sees it glowing, and in her mind, she hears it, the cie'th's voice calling out to her, begging her to finish its focus, to end its suffering.

"This... this is what you do to cie'th?" a woman asks, having found the courage to speak. "You keep them until they turn into that?"

"To grant them another chance to fulfill their focus, yes," the priest says, unperturbed, and he gestures at the massive machine ramming itself into the barriers that hold it captive. "This one's focus was to fell that very centaurion. You all can save it, fulfill its focus."

"You set this up?" a man mumbles in disbelief. "You could have helped it yourselves!"

"This is the new purpose they serve," the priest responds, turning to Fang. "Will you redeem this cie'th, Chosen?" he asks, this time looking at Vanille. "Will you help it, Chosen? Save it from a hell of its own making?"

The cie'th's voice gets louder and louder, drowning out the priest. Help me, it cries over and over. Help me. Help me.

"Shut up!" Fang roars, rushing at the priest and grabbing him by the neck.

Vanille tries to call out to Fang, but no sound comes out. It's just like before, at the Temple, when Fang killed the high priests, when all she did was stand and watch Fang kill three people for her. She tries to move instead, towards Fang, but her feet feel so heavy.

The guards at the door run past her and straight to Fang, but Fang doesn't even glance at them, yanks the priest's spear from his hands and holds the tip to his throat.

"Open the gate."

Fang's harsh, angry growl makes Vanille stop, makes her unable to take another step.

"D-do as she says!" the priest stutters to the guards. "Open the gate! Open it!"

The guards hurry to the gate and it opens, cie'th spilling out and attacking the fleeing guards. Fang drops the priest and his weapon, then rips the dragoon lance from the ground and charges into the pack of cie'th. Vanille and the other l'Cie stand and watch Fang kill one cie'th after another.

"You're a fool, Chosen!" the priest howls in rage, though he remains on the floor, too fearful to move, not even to reach for his weapon. "You're denying these cie'th salvation, cursing souls you had the choice to redeem! You think this ends their suffering? No, only a focus complete will bring them peace!"

Fang ignores the priest, doesn't stop until the last cie'th is dead.

The cie'th stone continues to call to all the l'Cie, its voice so loud, its desperation and pain so overwhelming that it brings some l'Cie to their knees, their brands changing, progressing. Vanille covers her ears but it's no good, she can still hear the cie'th stone screaming.

Fang returns to the priest, this time aiming her own weapon at his throat.

"Set it loose," she orders, nodding at the massive, bellowing machine the priest called a centaurion.

Upon the priest's sputtered compliance, the guards drop the barriers containing the centaurion. Fang leaps at the machine, and it's only then that Vanille and the other l'Cie join her.

* * *

Later, in the hall where the l'Cie eat, Vanille hears them talk.

"There must have been a dozen l'Cie, I... I couldn't really look, I couldn't even look at them. But the Yun- the Yun killed them all."

"Had I been there, I would have done the same thing. We're no better than Cocoon if we're doing this to our own people. You see a cie'th, you kill it. You don't put it in a cage and wait for it to turn to stone."

"We're fighting a war we're losing. Pride is the least of our concerns."

"Then I'm glad you're not our Chosen."

"The cie'th and the cie'th stone proved useful, did it not? It seems our Chosen has benefited from it."

"You both misunderstand me. Pride and compassion are not what concerned me about the Yun's actions. The priest... he said it was better to turn to stone, better to wait and hope for other l'Cie to complete our focus."

"You say that now, but I know that if I turn into a cie'th, I want someone to find me and put an end to it. I left my behind my wife and my children to become a l'Cie and fight this war. I think I'm owed a swift, merciful death."

"But if we doubt our faith in Anima, if our Chosen doesn't respect Anima's priests, how can we have faith in them?"

Vanille puts two plates on the tray she's carrying, one for her and one for Fang. She tries to find something Fang may like but there isn't much to choose from. The food in the arks is stale and bland, it doesn't matter what she picks. They're usually too hungry to care what the food tastes like, as long as they're eating something.

"The Yun is strong, I heard, though lacking skills in magic."

"Have you seen the brands of the Chosen? Only at the second stage. The Yun has learned what spells she can, she's only so far along. Regardless, she has little need of them. Her strength alone is more than enough to get her through this ark, and the Dia is exceptionally adept with magic."

"She is. Her healing spells, especially, they are on par with l'Cie from the Seventh Ark above. I didn't think it was possible with a brand like hers."

"It should not be, but does this truly surprise you? She is our Chosen, after all."

Vanille takes salt, a lot of salt. Fang would like that.

More l'Cie are talking.

"I really thought the Yun was going to kill the priest."

"Yeah. Some Chosen, huh? Anima must have been desperate or crazy to have picked the Yun."

"You question Anima?"

"I'm not about to turn my blade on a priest, but, yeah, maybe I am. The Yun and the Dia have their focus. Why haven't they become Ragnarok yet? What are they waiting for? What's stopping them?"

"I find it fitting. For generations, the Yuns have taken from us, looked down on us. It's time they give something back, and what better than Ragnarok?"

Ragnarok. Her focus and Fang's. The Burden of the Beast. Vanille remembers what she saw when she was branded, Cocoon in flames, its shell ripped open. Ragnarok, a beast, a monster, what people expect her to become, what people expect Fang to become.

"Perhaps this is part their focus, or perhaps it takes time and our priests felt it is time best spent in the arks. I doubt it's a simple thing. Though, it is possible it's the Dia. She doesn't seem to have the stomach for war."

"The arks will steel her, give her a taste for blood like the Yun was born with."

Vanille's hands grip the edges of the tray so tightly they tremble. This is how people see them now, the Yun, the Dia, the Chosen, Ragnarok. _We're just like you,_ she wants to tell them, scream at them. _We have names,_ she wants to remind them, but she just keeps walking. She just keeps her head bowed and pretends not to listen to them.

**.**

**Ten**

Vanille put her hands together in prayer and closes her eyes. She prays for the many lives lost this day, as the fires in the village of Arque are still being put out. She prays for the innocents killed in the Cocoon attack, for the grieving loved ones they're leaving behind and, because she can't help herself, she prays for the Cocoon l'Cie felled in the village's defense.

Eleven months later, nine arks later, she's standing on Gran Pulse soil again. She's outside, she feels the warmth of the sun on her skin, but she's surrounded by smoke, rubble and broken homes and broken families.

Her hands tremble, and she squeezes her eyes shut as if they weren't already closed. She thinks of how many other villages are burning, how many are being culled, while she prays for the enemy. She thinks of the nightmares that have been getting worse by the day, of the Cocoon fal'Cie ripping Cheis apart, of people screaming and her mother telling her to run.

All that training, all that she's seen in the arks, have done nothing to her. Eleven months later, nine Arks later, she's still the same.

"Chosen?"

The voice that calls to her is a timid whisper, a hushed, reverent tone meant only for Anima and Anima's priests. She sees a man limping towards her. She hurries over and supports his stumbling body, using magic to heal him.

"Th-thank you, Chosen, thank you," the man stammers in surprise and awe, as though undeserving of it. "You needn't have done that. My injuries were superficial. You must still be weary from tending to the wounded."

Vanille smiles, hoping to assure the man, wishing he would stop looking at her like she's some kind of goddess.

"Please," she says to him, begs of him, "worry about yourself and your family. I'm fine, really. I want to help."

The man suddenly clutches at her arms and falls to his knees, looking up at her imploringly.

"That is why I have come to you, Chosen," he pauses, gazing at her expectantly, and she has to nod before he speaks again. "Forgive me, Chosen, you've already done so much for our village, but I... my son, Yaar, he ran into the woods when the Cocoon l'Cie attacked. Our warriors, those few remaining, have turned me away. I cannot leave, and I realize this is selfish of me to ask but will you search for him, please?"

Vanille hesitates, not because she doesn't want to help, but because of Fang. Fang is out there somewhere with the other l'Cie, chasing down the Cocoon l'Cie who fled after the fight. She's supposed to stay here, just like how she stayed with the surviving villagers during the attack.

There's a chance Fang finds the boy, but Fang is hunting for Cocoon l'Cie, not looking for a boy.

"I'll look for your son," Vanille tells the man, helping him back up to his feet. "When..." she pauses, wondering how to refer to Fang in a way this man will understand. "When my partner comes back, please tell her where I've gone."

"The Yun Chosen?" the man asks, and when she nods, he exclaims, "Yes! Yes, of course, Chosen! We have indeed been blessed by Anima!"

* * *

Vanille searches for what feels like hours, treading through a forest that feels more like the labyrinths in the Arks. She holds close the malboro wand she's been given, grips it tight like an enemy is going spring out of hiding and attack her any moment. She wishes Fang was with her. She's never been off on her own since they became l'Cie. Since then, the only place that feels safe is next to Fang

This place right now, it's nothing like the last time she was out in a forest, when she had taken one of the kids with her to fish and gather flowers. That day, she thinks, the same day the priests came and took them away. She wonders, for just a moment, how the matron and the children are doing at Oerba. She missed them, wishes they were allowed to write home.

Her brand starts to burn and she shakes her head, tries not to dwell on it. Vanille thinks about now. She has to find this boy. It's dangerous out here.

It's some time later, further into the woods, when she hears faint sobbing. She follows the sound, having enough sense to stay hidden and move quietly towards it. She soon comes upon a thicket, where she finds a boy, no older than seven, on the ground, crying.

Vanille barely stops herself from rushing to the boy. She looks around first, then gasps at what she sees. There, opposite the boy, is the still body of a Cocoon l'Cie, slumped against a boulder. Vanille pauses. The Cocoon l'Cie – a woman, she notes – she can't tell if the woman is breathing or not.

Make sure the Cocoon l'Cie is dead. It's what she should do. It's what Fang would do, it's what Fang's been doing all day, so she wouldn't have to.

But Fang isn't here. Fang isn't here.

Vanille holds the malboro with one hand, her other hand hovering over her brand. A powerful enough lightning spell would be enough, quick and painless if the woman does turn out to be alive.

If the woman is alive, she thinks, but no further than that. She shakes her head. The woman isn't moving. The woman is dead, she tells herself. She's dead.

Vanille drops her hand and goes to the boy, sheathing the malboro wand as she nears him. The boy looks at her with big, teary eyes, his small body shaking in fright.

"Hey there," she says softly, smiling reassuringly. "Are you Yaar?"

He quiets down, his loud sobs turning into soft sniffles. He stares at her face, then at her clothes, and then, eventually, he nods.

"My name is Vanille," she tells him, approaching him and kneeling beside him. "Are you hurt?"

Yaar sniffles again before shyly revealing a badly scraped knee. There are also small cuts and bruises on his face and arms.

"I'm a l'Cie," Vanille says, "I can make it better if you want me to."

He blinks at her, now regarding her with awe, and slowly nods.

"Your father asked me to come look for you, Yaar," she says as she begins to heal his wounds, starting with his knee. "He's very worried about you. When you're all better, I'm going to take you back home, okay?"

Yaar's eyes suddenly widen, his face drained of color.

"I-I c-can't," he stutters, "I-I'm not s-supposed to- to- 'cause, 'c-cause-"

"Yaar?" Vanille asks, frowning. "What's wrong?"

"Drop your weapon."

Vanille freezes at the voice, strange and foreign but clear, clear and perfectly understandable. The familiar crackle of fire makes her look, and there she finds the Cocoon l'Cie, aiming a weapon and a fire spell at her.

"Put your weapon on the ground!" the woman yells, flinging fire near her feet.

Vanille is startled, but she recovers quickly and puts herself in front of Yaar.

"I know you can understand me, barbarian," the woman barks, looking at her with disgust. "Drop your weapon or I will shoot you."

Vanille nods, reaching for the malboro wand with a shaky hand and dropping it to the ground. Her heart is hammering, beating so loudly she had barely heard the Cocoon l'Cie's words. This is her fault, this is happening because of her. She should have made sure the Cocoon l'Cie was dead. If Yaar gets hurt, it'll be her fault.

"Hold your hands up," the woman snaps, keeping the weapon trained on her. "Keep them away from your brand. I will know if you start channel a spell and if you do, I will shoot you," the woman repeats the threat, her eyes, though squinting in pain, have so much hate in them.

Vanille cooperates, holding her hands up like the Cocoon l'Cie ordered. The woman struggles to stand on what looks like a broken leg, needing to lean on the boulder for support. The peculiar Cocoon armor the woman is wearing is ripped and shredded in places, showing deep cut and bad burns. On the woman's wrist is a Cocoon brand, and judging from those Vanille has seen on dead Cocoon l'Cie, this woman's brand is fairly new.

"Did you come here alone?" the woman asks, now leaning against the boulder and breathing heavily, but still pointing the Cocoon-made weapon at her.

Vanille nods again. She needs to think. She needs to breathe. It's the sound of Yaar's crying that pushes her to speak.

"Please," she pleads with the woman, trying to keep her voice from quivering, "please let Yaar go."

The Cocoon l'Cie's expression softens for a moment.

"I'm not going to hurt him," the woman says, then expression and voice hardens again. "I know Pulse l'Cie like you are hunting down the rest of my unit. Give me the boy and show me out of the woods, then I'll let you both go."

"I can show you out myself," Vanille offers.

The woman scoffs.

"I'm not a fool, barbarian. You think I don't know the boy's the only reason you haven't attacked me? Hand him over."

Vanille feels Yaar cling to her.

"I don't wanna go with the Cocoon l'Cie," he whimpers. "Please don't make me go."

"I said hand him over!" the woman shouts, pushing off the boulder and trying to stand on her own. "Shit," she curses, stumbling back against the boulder.

Vanille watches the woman, notices how the woman is barely able to keep a weapon on her, thinks that the woman probably can't react fast enough if she puts down her hands and throws a few quick spells. She realizes it now. She could end this, kill the Cocoon l'Cie and get Yaar home safe. She could have done that from the start.

Instead, she let this all happen. Instead, she's letting this Cocoon l'Cie live.

But the woman just wants to leave. The woman just wants to run.

"I'll heal you," Vanille says before she thinks, before she realizes how foolish a thing it is to say.

The woman looks at her like she's lost her mind.

"You'll what?"

"I'll heal you," Vanille repeats, not taking back her words, not really wanting to. "You're injured, your leg is broken. You won't make it out of the woods like that. If you let Yaar go, I'll heal you and show you the way out myself."

The woman scoffs again, but she can see it now, how there's more fear than hate in the woman's eyes.

"And how do I know you won't try to kill me instead?"

"I don't want to fight," Vanille admits, more to herself than to the Cocoon l'Cie, and it feels like the first time she's been honest to herself since becoming a l'Cie. "I don't want to fight," she says again, looking the woman in the eye. "I just want to take Yaar home."

The woman is stunned, doesn't do or say a thing for a long time.

"No tricks," the woman says when she finally speaks. "Heal me, tell me how to get out of here, then you and the boy can go."

"I-" Vanille starts, shocked by the Cocoon l'Cie's words. "Okay," she agrees, then gently pulls Yaar's hands away from her waist. "Yaar, you stay here, okay?" she tells him as he snivels. "We'll go back to your father soon. You just have to wait a little longer, okay?"

"O-okay," Yaar stutters.

Vanille smiles, hoping to reassure him, and then she faces the woman again, taking slow, cautious steps towards her. The woman looks guarded and suspicious when she approaches, weapon still pointed at her. Vanille shows her hands, shows that she's channeling a healing a spell, and looks at the woman expectantly.

"I'm going to heal your leg first," she says, and over and over she's thinking to herself that this is going to work out, that the woman will just leave and she can bring Yaar back to his father.

The woman still seems conflicted, but, eventually, she lowers her weapon. Vanille kneels down and brings her glowing hands over the woman's broken leg, gently pressing her palms down on the limb as she draws more healing magic from her brand.

She looks up, watches the woman who's watching her back. She's never seen someone from Cocoon before, not this close. Apart from the strange accent, the woman, with her dark skin, curly hair and facial features, looked similar to the women of the Atz clan. She's been hearing the story of Cocoon since she was a child, how the now people of Cocoon listened to Lindzei's lies, abandoned Gran Pulse and became slaves to the Cocoon fal'Cie.

But, looking at the woman, coming to an understanding with her, Vanille can't help but feel that they're more alike than different. L'Cie, Gran Pulse, Cocoon, they're all human. They're all the same.

The woman winces, biting back a curse as the magic fuses together the broken bones in her leg. Vanille glances at the woman's leg, sees the blood and bone and muscle and she can't stop herself from thinking about Fang's severed right arm. It's been almost a year since their branding, but she still thinks of it whenever she's using her magic to heal. It's why she's so good at it, she had to be, she had to put Fang's arm back.

"How much longer will this take?" the woman asks, voice strained from the pain.

Vanille looks back up to answer, but only a gasp comes out. She sees a l'Cie, a fellow l'Cie, perched on a tree behind the woman and aiming an arrow right at her head.

The woman notices, looks over her shoulder and sees the l'Cie, then looks back at her with eyes full of hate and rage.

"You set me up!" the woman shouts, shoving the end of the weapon against her head.

Vanille is frozen, her wide eyes staring blankly at her still glowing hands.

"No," she mumbles, her hands now shaking.

"Drop the bow if you don't want me to blow her head off!" the woman barks at the l'Cie, who willingly cooperated, refusing to gamble with the Chosen's life. "I should have known better than the trust a barbarian," the Cocoon l'Cie says to her, sneering at her.

But she barely hears it, the words, the hate, she barely hears any of it because her heart is beating so loud again and fast, so fast.

"No," she mumbles again, looking at the woman, wishing she could see, wishing she would listen.

She doesn't notice that the glow in her hands have changed, that the magic being drawn from her brand is different. Suddenly, the woman lurches, dropping the weapon and falling to her knees, gasping like she can't breathe. A dark cloud surrounds the woman's body, swirling wildly, and as the woman clutches her throat and her chest, Vanille realizes that her hands have the same dark glow.

_It's me,_ she realizes as she stares at her hands in horror. _I'm doing that. I'm killing her._

"Stop," she says, staring at her hands in horror. "Stop!" she yells, pressing her glowing hands to her brand. "Stop!"The glow disappears. She doesn't know if what she did worked, but the glow disappears and the woman goes limp on the ground, limp but alive, gasping desperately for air. Vanille can't move, can't believe what just happened, and she just watches as the woman grabs the weapon and stands back up.

"W-what was that spell? What the hell are you!"

There's no more hate in the Cocoon l'Cie's eyes, just fear, so much fear.

"Demon! You barbarians really are demons and this is hell! This is hell!" the woman screams, aiming the weapon at her head again. "This is he-"

A dragonhorn lance strikes the woman's shoulder, thrown with such power that she's impaled on the boulder. Fang is suddenly there, ripping the weapon from the woman's hands and then quickly, easily breaking her neck, sparing her any needless suffering.

"Vanille!"

Fang's voice, she's missed it so much. Fang's arms, now wrapped around her, and Fang's warm body, she's missed those, too.

More l'Cie emerge, one attending to Yaar, who looks afraid of all of them, especially her, and a few going to the Cocoon l'Cie. Vanille looks at the Cocoon l'Cie, sees the woman's blank, dead eyes and she can't turn away. She trembles in Fang's arms and finally, finally, she cries.

**.**

**Eleven**

Time has passed, Vanille doesn't know how much. A year, months more, she doesn't know. Her sense of time is in the numbers of the arks. Tenth Ark, Eleventh Ark, Twelfth Ark, each stay has felt longer than the last. It is why, when they're told they are to be taken to the vaults, something about it doesn't feel right.

The ark vaults, where l'Cie are taken to prove they're ready for the next ark. Vanille and Fang are in the Thirteenth Ark, the last ark, and now they're on their way to the vaults. But something about it doesn't feel right. It's too soon, she thinks. They haven't been in the Thirteenth Ark long enough. It doesn't feel like it's been long enough.

But Fang, Fang just shrugs and follows the guards out.

The train they board has no other l'Cie, only more guards, far too many for just two l'Cie, even for the Chosen. The moment they take a seat, Fang puts an arm around her and holds her close.

"It'll be over soon," Fang tells her, saying it like it's a promise.

When Vanille looks, she sees that Fang is smiling at her.

Vanille leans on Fang and closes her eyes. It's quiet, Fang's warm. She almost falls asleep.

* * *

After the train, they're taken to an elevator. They step inside, the guards following, and Vanille reaches for Fang's hand as the door closes.

The vaults are thirteen floors below.

Vanille squeezes Fang's hand when the elevator begins to move. She hates it, the closed space, the guards surrounding them, the slow descent and the feeling that, at any moment, the platform under her feet would crumble and she'll fall. There's no way to go but down, thirteen floors down.

Fang squeezes her hand back, strong but gentle.

It's okay, Fang is telling her, reminding her.

Yes, Vanille wants to say, wishes she has the confidence to say it. For twelve arks, Fang's done most of the fighting, done the things she didn't have the courage to do. She's learned all these powerful spells, has seen all these horrible things, but she doesn't feel any stronger.

She wishes she can say it's going to be okay, that this time, she won't be scared. She wishes she can say that this time, she'll pull her weight, she'll fight with Fang.

* * *

The elevator stops, the door opens and there's another just ahead, the door to the vaults. The guards walk them down the large hall where two more are waiting, one holding a Kain's Lance, the other holding a Nirvana. A Kain's Lance, a Nirvana, weapons the arks could easily provide to l'Cie of the Thirteenth Ark because so few of them make it this far.

They're handed the weapons, Vanille reluctantly letting go of Fang's hand, and the door to the vaults is opened. Vanille wonders what's on the other side, behemoths, juggernauts, centaurions, maybe ochus or even oretoises. It's just the first door, the first vault, but this is the Thirteenth Ark and she expects the worst.

The first vault is empty.

"Keep going," a guard tells them.

Vanille looks at Fang. Something's not right.

"What the hell is this?" Fang growls, grabbing the guard by his collar.

"Keep going," a different guard repeats, though his tone is tamer, almost meek.

Fang sneers and releases the first guard with a shove, making him stumble. The other guards look alarmed and shocked but they do nothing. Fang stalks towards the next door, the Kain drawn, its blades flipped outwards. Vanille follows Fang, the guards hurrying after them.

The next vault is also empty, so is the next one and the one after it.

Fang is running now, yelling at the guards to open the door ahead. Vanille runs after Fang, the sinking feeling in her stomach - the feeling that something's wrong - getting worse with every empty vault they walk into. The guards have fallen behind, have simply left the rest of the doors open for them.

It's in the thirteenth vault, the last vault, where they find something. On a lift overlooking the vault are the priests, all of them, even the three new high priests in the red, purple and black robes. Thirteen others stand in the center of the vault, dressed in silver robes and brandishing varying weapons matching the quality of the Kain's Lance and the Nirvana.

"Ahh, the Chosen," the red priest drones, his voice echoing. "Here you are at last, one trial away from completing your journey through the arks. You are, indeed, Anima's Chosen, blessed with strength, honor and the holy spirit, for no other l'Cie has set foot in these vaults and-"

"Shut up and show us what we have to fight," Fang snaps, stepping forward, in front of Vanille.

Though most gasp and utter in shock and disbelief, the priest in red only smiles.

"Of course, Chosen," he says, "it is what we have come to witness, after all. If you would join the others, we can begin."

"The others?" Vanille whispers as she follows Fang to the people wearing silver robes. "Are you all l'Cie?" she asks them. "Are you going to fight with us?"

She tries to approach them, but Fang holds out an arm to stop her. Fang is tense, she can feel it as she touches Fang's arm.

"Fang?" she calls, but Fang doesn't answer her, doesn't even look at her.

Fang is glaring at the people wearing silver robes, looking ready for a fight. Vanille turns to these people, wondering what it is that Fang is seeing. Their hoods are pulled over their heads, covering half of their faces. All she can see are their weapons.

"Indeed, Chosen, they are l'Cie," the red priest answers her, then his expression darkens and his voice becomes even more hollow. "But they are not here to fight with you. They are here to fulfill their focus."

"Focus?" Fang repeats, sneering. "What focus?"

Vanille isn't sure because the priests are so high up, but she thinks she can see the red priest smile.

"To test you, Chosen," he declares, lifting his hands in the air. "Here, at last, is your final trial in the arks. These l'Cie, branded by Anima, shall be remembered as they who ushered the Chosen past the Thirteenth Ark and brought us closer to salvation and reckoning. Theirs are names to be sung in praise and glory on the day of Cocoon's fall!"

One by one, a name is called, and one by one, a l'Cie's face is revealed and a silver robe is shed. Six names, Vanille vaguely recognizes, has heard a few times in the past arks they've been in. Six names, six faces, she recognizes, but it's the last name called, the last face she sees, that stuns her, makes her drop her weapon.

"Oerba Xej Raya."

She's standing at the very back of the group but there's no mistaking it. It's Raya, the tousled red hair, the kind green eyes. Raya, the kind, patient hunter who took Fang under her wing when no other hunter would, the only friend and confidant Fang had left after Orvin, Irvette, Safiyah, Wynn and her mentor Moriel had gone.

"W-what?" Fang gasps, and then there's a loud clatter, the sound of the Kain's Lance hitting the ground.

Fang pushes and shoves her way to Raya, the other l'Cie not able to move away fast enough. Quickly, a sword is drawn from its sheath and Fang has to stop, the tip of the blade pressed against her chest, right over her heart.

"What's going on?" Fang mutters, but when Raya doesn't answer, she snaps, "What the hell is going on!"

"Exactly what His Reverence has said," Raya says, her usually warm voice cold, hollow like the red priest's. "We're here to fight."

Fang knocks the blade away, not caring that her arm is sliced.

"What kind of focus is that!" Fang roars, whipping around to glare at the priests. "Why is Anima throwing l'Cie at us and not Cocoon?"

The other priests remain silent. Only the red priest speaks.

"You are misunderstanding, Chosen. We have no use for other l'Cie. We need only Anima's Chosen. We need only Ragnarok."

Fang bares her teeth at the priests.

"You're bloody mad if you think I'm going to do this. Open the door or I'll kill you like I killed the priests you replaced."

The threat, the truth behind it, surprises all the l'Cie except Raya, a sad look in her eyes that disappears in a blink. Fang stares at Raya for a moment before turning away, voice a little strained when she speaks again.

"Let's go, Vanille."

But Fang is only able to take a few steps towards her before the other l'Cie block the way with their bodies and their weapons.

"You will fight us, Chosen," one says.

"It's our focus," another says. "It's what we must do to help bring about Ragnarok."

Fang's eyes narrow at them.

"Get out of my way," she orders. "I don't need your help."

"We know what we've seen, Chosen," a third answers. "Anima has shown us a clear vision. This must be done. This needs to happen."

"We've accepted this like you've accepted your own focus," yet another says, one who has fought with Fang, has killed Cocoon l'Cie with her. "We trained in the arks, just like you, knowing how it's going to end."

"So raise your damn weapon and fight," barks another of the six who are familiar. "I'm not going to turn into a cie'th because the Chosen lost the nerve to do what needs to be done."

Vanille feels her legs give at those words. She sinks to the floor, her arms limp at her sides, her weapon within reach but completely forgotten. She can't do it. She can't fight these l'Cie. She can't fight Raya.

Fang looks at the last l'Cie who had spoken and says only one thing.

"Move."

Quickly, unexpectedly, Fang grabs the closest spear, kicking the l'Cie holding it and sending him airborne.

"Get the Dia!" another l'Cie bellows.

Vanille sees about seven of them coming for her, but she can't move. Arrows and magic are heading her way and all she can do is stare. She barely feels a protective spell and a barrier cast on her before the first wave hits her, all deflected and absorbed. Someone steps in front of her, shielding her from the rest, and it's not Fang.

"Hey, Little Matron."

The nickname, the gentle, kind voice that says it, make Vanille's eyes sting with tears. It's Raya. It really is Raya.

"What are you doing?" a l'Cie yells at Raya.

Raya ignores the question, just smiles sadly, apologetically at her before darting off to fight the other l'Cie with Fang. Vanille can only watch, her limbs too heavy, her mind a blank, registering nothing but the sound of clashing weapons and magic, and when it's over, there are twelve crystallized l'Cie in the vault.

Fang is standing in front of her, panting, bleeding and without a weapon. Raya stands further away, in front of the door that leads out of the vaults and into the apse. Raya is also wounded, though not as much as Fang, and she has both her sword and the Kain's Lance.

"F-Fang," Vanille stutters, finally able to speak.

She reaches for Fang, but Fang moves, starts going towards Raya.

"Fight me," Fang says.

_So you turn to crystal like them,_ is what Fang is really saying. _So you don't become a cie'th._

Raya throws the Kain's Lance to Fang, the weapon landing on the ground, marking the middle of the distance between them. Fang sprints, picks the Kain's Lance up and falls into a stance, ready for another fight.

Raya holds out her sword, then drops it.

"What the hell?" Fang mumbles, confused, angry, afraid. "I said fight me!"

"No," Raya says softly. "No can do, whelp. Fighting you isn't my focus."

"Then what is it?" Fang demands. "Do you need to fight Vanille instead? Both of us?"

"No," Raya says again. "My focus is to kill you."

Vanille's hand drops to the ground, her gaze and her heart seeming to follow. She stares at her hands, her pale, trembling hands splayed on the floor.

"What? That's the same as the others!"

"No, it isn't. My focus is very specific. I'd have to run you through with my sword."

"Then do it! Just stab me, do it! Vanille will heal me. Come on! Your brand's already glowing, you're running out of time!"

"Fang, please. I've already decided, just as you've decided to let those l'Cie hurt you so they could turn to crystal."

"Shut up, stop talking like that! Just fight me, damn it! Fight me!"

Vanille feels her heart break with every word, every plea that comes from Fang. She squeezes her eyes shut, the last thing she sees is Fang running to Raya, shouting at her, pleading with her her. Vanille knows what that glow means, she and Fang have seen it before and she remembers what Fang had to do. But this, Raya, Fang, she can't, she can't see this.

_I'm sorry, Fang,_ she wants to say. _I'm so, so sorry._

"Fang, what are you-"

"Shut up and hold your bloody sword right!"

Fang doesn't make a sound but Vanille hears it, the sound of blade going through flesh. She hears another sound, Raya, laughing weakly.

"Stubborn as ever, I see."

"Wh-why didn't it work? You're still glowing, you're still-"

Vanille doesn't hear Fang's voice anymore after that. For a long time she hears nothing, and then comes the horrible, familiar wail of a cie'th. She crumples further on the ground and covers her ears. She doesn't want to hear it.

Make it stop, she wants to say. Please make it stop.

The ground shakes and rumbles, and the wailing stops. Vanille forces her eyes to open, to see what has happened.

There's a wide crater in the ground. In the center of is Fang, still impaled with Raya's sword, and no one else, nothing else. Fang is crouching, gripping the Kain's Lance with one hand and clutching her brand with the other.

All is still, all is quiet, and then Fang lets out the most anguished, miserable scream Vanille's ever heard, and she hears it, even though she's covering her ears, she hears it. The glow from Fang's brand becomes blinding, makes her shut her eyes for a moment.

When Vanille opens her eyes again, she sees the eidolon Bahamut looming over Fang. The next thing she sees is Fang standing up and ripping Raya's sword out of her shoulder, looking at Bahamut with eyes that contain nothing but rage.


	5. Part 5

**.**

_On this day, the tragedy fell, and two seeds were planted in the earth._

- Episode Zero: Tomorrow

**Apply Standard Disclaimers Here**

**.**

**Odds and Ends  
War Blossoms, Part 5  
By: E.G. Szyslak** [08/09/12-08/13/12]

**.**

**Twelve**

Fang shifts her weight from one leg to the other, getting impatient, tired of standing still. The matron notices, smiles but doesn't say anything, and simply continues to fold the blue cloth that's draped on her left shoulder and across her chest, making sure the embroidered trim will show.

"It's going to fall off, even with the belt," she mutters, shifting again, this time out of discomfort. "And how am I supposed to move around in this?" she grumbles, tugging the cloth of a similar color and design that's wrapped around her waist.

The matron – Yeta, she reminds herself, Yeta – looks amused with her.

"Did you expect much mobility?"

"Enough to fight," she says.

Cocoon fal'Cie and l'Cie are out there somewhere, killing people, tearing villages apart. Instead of sending the Chosen to Cocoon after the Thirteenth Ark, Anima's priests brought them to Oerba, declaring a new festival in their honor that's to start tomorrow. For four days now, people from all over Gran Pulse, those surviving, have been coming to Oerba to drink, dance and rejoice.

They're just waiting. No one is fighting anymore. They're just waiting for Ragnarok.

"Never know," Fang drawls, sneering, "Cocoon might hear us celebrating from up there and decide to remind us this war isn't over yet."

Yeta frowns, and Fang immediately regrets saying it. She isn't sorry for what she has said, just that she said it.

"This may be foolish," Yeta tells her, "but it's brought you and Vanille back to me, if only for a few days, and for that, Fang, I'm grateful, I'm so grateful." Yeta reaches up, cups her face as if needing more proof she's real, and in a quiet, almost shameful voice, whispers to her, "I'm sorry for being selfish, for adding to your burdens when you already have so many. I'm sorry."

The sunken cheeks, the thin, frail hands, Yeta looks so weak, so beaten down and tired. Yeta shouldn't be like this, Fang thinks. Yeta wouldn't have suffered so much if she had protected them from the priests that night, if she had kept Vanille from being branded.

She takes Yeta's hands, draws them away from her face and clasps them in hers. She's mindful to be gentle. It feels like Yeta's hands would break easy.

"There's nothing to be sorry about, Yeta," she starts, thinking of how Vanille feels about this, what Vanille would say, what Vanille would want to hear from her, "I'm happy to be home."

At first, she thinks she's done it wrong, that she must have sounded like she was lying, because Yeta just stares at her with wide eyes. Then, suddenly, Yeta's hands slip from hers and Yeta is hugging her, sobbing on her shoulder. Slowly, carefully, she holds this small, shaking body in her arms.

So small, she thinks. Yeta feels so small, like Vanille.

* * *

Later, when Yeta has calmed down and left the room, saying there's something she needs to get, Fang goes to the mirror and looks at her reflection. She's still wearing the strange, uncomfortable clothing that feels too constricting, too suffocating.

She touches the trim of the cloth that's draped over her shoulder, then slides her fingers further, over the blue. It looks good with her necklace and earrings, Yeta has said. These clothes, a farewell gift from her mentor, look good with her necklace and earrings. These clothes, with this jewelry, that are – were – worn for ceremonies by women of the Ley clan, the clan her mother was born into and belonged to before meeting her father and taking the Yun name.

The Leys are gone, the village they lived in destroyed by a fal'Cie years ago. They – her mother – will be remembered, she vows. When people see her in these clothes, they'll be remembered along with the Yuns.

Yeta comes back holding two fur pelts she recognizes immediately. They're trophies, like the snakeskin armband Vanille made for her, from one of the many hunting trips she used to go on with Vanille, Raya and the other hunters.

"I thought perhaps you'd like to wear them," Yeta says about the pelts, showing that she has strung them to a cord belt.

Fang nods and allows Yeta to tie the cord around her waist, slipping the pelts under the thick leather belt she's wearing and letting them hang over her right leg.

"There," Yeta says, stepping back and looking her over, gazing at her with the eyes of a mother.

"Thank you," she mumbles, avoiding Yeta's eyes.

"Is this what you really want you wear, though?" Yeta asks. "You don't seem very comfortable."

Fang tries to smile.

"This festival's for me and Vanille. Figured I should look nice for it."

"You look very beautiful," Yeta tells her, briefly touching her cheek. "Now, out of those clothes. They need washing."

Fang manages a short, small laugh.

"Okay," she concedes, first removing the two belts and the cloth wrapped around her waist.

The other cloth goes next, leaving her in black shorts and a black top, and with a few last words, Yeta is trotting off with the clothes and the pelts.

* * *

Alone in the room, Fang sits on a bed, the same bottom bunk she and Vanille used to share. She looks at her brand, stares at the ten arrows and the open eye. Not much longer now. Not much time left. She touches her brand, feels the heat coming from it, feels her heart beat through it.

Her hand slips a little lower, to the snakeskin armband. She wonders where Vanille is now, what she's doing, and hopes she's enjoying herself, hopes she's happy.

Dropping her hand, she looks at her other shoulder this time, where now there's a mark, one she got the very day they arrived at Oerba. This mark, this mark of a Yun, is in the shape of a dragon. She doesn't know if she's earned it, only that it's fitting because her eidolon, Bahamut, is a dragon.

The people of Paddra believe eidolons are a l'Cie's salvation, sent by the goddess Etro to put weak, miserable and confused l'Cie out of their misery.

What fools, Fang thinks, them and their goddess, they're all fools.

She's still alive. An eidolon couldn't kill her – this Etro couldn't kill her – and now Bahamut is hers to order around. Nothing is going to stop her from completing this focus. Cocoon won't win. Vanille won't become a cie'th.

There's a flurry of voices coming from outside. Vanille is back with the orphans.

Fang stands up, eager to greet them, but she only manages to take a few steps before her right arm tenses, sending a jolt through her shoulder. She grips her arm, right where her brand is, right where her arm was severed, and she stumbles to the bed as the pain comes, a burning, ripping sensation that makes her feel like her arm is being pulled off again.

No, she thinks. Not now, not this bad.

Hearing the voices getting louder, getting closer, Fang struggles to her feet and staggers into the bathroom, slamming her back against the door to shut it. Slowly, she slides to the ground, clutching her arm and gritting her teeth.

Vanille can't know about this. Vanille must never know.

**.**

**Thirteen**

On the second day of the festival, Vanille goes to the garden on the schoolhouse's roof. She's brought Bhakti with her, using the robot to take pictures of the plants that have flowered, something she and Irvette used to do, something she continued to do even after Irvette was branded and taken to the arks.

The Chamber of the l'Cie has been opened for the festival. The kids want to go, she remembers. She wonders if they should still bring flowers. It hasn't been ten years since the last festival.

"_We're gonna bring flowers to you and Fang every day, Vanille!"_ they've told her with big, silly smiles. _"And we'll pray to Anima every day, too. You two are gonna wake up really soon, you'll see!"_

Vanille smiles sadly. It's hard to lie to the kids, to go along with the things they say and smile through it. For Gran Pulse, for her home and her family, Cocoon has to fall, its fal'Cie destroyed and its people killed. Most of those people are innocent and helpless, like the Culling victims, like the boy Yaar and his father.

But how is she supposed to do this, she wonders, when she couldn't even kill one Cocoon l'Cie.

She looks up, stares at Cocoon, but instead of a glimmering, floating sphere, she sees the vision Anima had shown her, a world burning, being torn apart.

She closes her eyes and turns away, looks instead at the calm, beautiful sea. There's a lot of people on the beach, looking carefree and happy. The spring breeze feels good on her skin, carrying with it the smell of the sea and tempting her to go for a swim. She wishes she could experience this every day for the rest of her life.

A bright flash startles her, makes her look down, and she finds Bhakti aiming its lens at her.

"There you go again," she says, tugging at the worn, old leash tied to Bhakti and guiding the robot to the next flowers. "Let's take pictures of these nightglows instead, okay?"

She manages to take a couple of snapshots before she's startled again, this time by a voice she barely recognizes.

"I thought you'd be here."

Dropping the leash, Vanille whirls around and finds Fang at the stairs leading to the garden, giving her a grin that she hasn't seen in years.

"Fang," she breathes, and then she runs, not stopping until she's wrapped in Fang's arms, the safest place she'll ever be. "How did the hunt go?" she asks, trying to ignore how painfully normal and ordinary the question sounds, trying to ignore how badly she wishes it is just that.

Fang chuckles, a sound she didn't think she'd her again.

"Went great. It's going to be a feast tonight. I got a really big flan, too, so I hope you're hungry."

Vanille laughs, hoping it'll keep her from crying.

"I am, I am," she says, reluctantly pulling away a little to look at Fang. "It really went well? You weren't hurt?"

"Nothing I couldn't fix myself," Fang tells her, giving her another grin, and it hurts to think this may be one of the last few times she'll see it.

"I'm glad," she murmurs, managing a smile.

"I thought the kids would be with you," Fang remarks, letting her to go to look around the garden. "Where are they?"

"Doing chores and running errands for Matron," Vanille answers, trailing after Fang, wanting to stay close.

"They're helping out, then? Good," Fang says, wandering over to the nightglows. "What are you doing here? Thinking of offering flowers at the Temple? Are they even allowing that? It hasn't been ten years."

Vanille shakes her head.

"I don't know," she admits, "the kids want to go to the Temple, though."

Fang nods.

"These plants are well cared for. Yeta's doing?"

"It is," Vanille says softly, eyes now on the nightglows. "Actually, I'm running errands for her, too," she tells Fang, smiling. "I'm supposed to be taking pictures of the flowers in bloom."

"Pictures?" Fang parrots, finally noticing Bhakti. "That bloody thing still works?"

Vanille giggles.

"Uh-huh! Wynn built him to last, you know!"

"Looks like," Fang says, sounding amused.

They're both quiet now, and Vanille's smile falters as the silence stretches on. She feels the world shrink with every second neither of them speak, until there's just her and Fang and Cocoon, Cocoon looming over them.

She glances at Fang. They're both dressed for the festival, Fang in Ley ceremonial clothes, and her in her bead jewelry and bangles. It's over two years too late, but she's also wearing the bear pelt Raya had gotten made for her. The pelts hanging from Fang's waist, she remembers exactly what hunt they're from and why Fang is wearing them.

Fang has hunted down bigger, more dangerous beasts, but the trophies she has, the armband, the pelts, are from animals she had to kill to protect people, to save lives. It's something very few hunting clans do, the Leys being one of those few.

Vanille can see it now, Fang's mother was from the Ley clan, she's been showing it all this time. It's why Fang was affected when they heard the village Ruard had been culled. Ruard is – was – where the Leys lived. She remembers now, too, why Fang's necklace and earrings seem so familiar. It's her mother's, Vanille is sure, it's the same jewelry Fang's mother was wearing the day they met.

She wishes they could talk about these things, the Yuns, Fang's mother, Raya. There's so many things she wants to say to Fang, so many things she wishes Fang would just tell her. But Fang is so proud, so stubborn and Vanille's afraid, she's so afraid, that she'll drive Fang away if she tries to talk, that she might lose Fang completely.

She can't lose Fang. She can't.

"Hey," Fang says, lifting up her chin and having her look into the kindest eyes she's ever seen. "Don't worry so much, yeah? You're home now, just think about that. You should be out there having fun, enjoying yourself."

Vanille tries to smile.

"You, too?"

Fang smiles back and pulls her into a hug.

"Yeah, I can do that," she hears Fang say, then feels a warm, rough hand gently clasp hers. "Come on, then. Let's get out of here."

Vanille feels her hand tugged, and the sight of Fang turning her back, walking away, it makes her panic, makes her feel like there's something she has to do now.

"W-wait!" she cries, squeezing hard at Fang's hand, not wanting Fang to slip away.

Fang stops and faces her, head tilting at her.

"I..." Vanille starts, suddenly feeling shy. "I have something to give to you."

Hesitantly letting go of Fang's hand, she opens the pouch attached to her hip and takes out bangles like hers and a uniquely made bead necklace. Her hands shake a little, and she keeps her head down as she waits for Fang to react. She's nervous, unsure if Fang would like it, if Fang would accept it.

"Do you remember, last festival, when I said I'd make you something?" she asks, slowly looking up to meet Fang's eyes.

"I remember," Fang says, grinning crookedly. "I thought you forgot."

"I didn't," Vanille murmurs. "I've just been holding on to the bangles, waiting for a time when you could wear them. But you were always off training, hunting, working, I know it would have been a hassle to wear them then. Now, though, I thought maybe you'd like to."

Fang's head tilts again.

"Just for the festival?"

Vanille smiles, encouraged by the friendly, curious tone.

"Not just. You're not a Dia, so you don't have to follow the tradition. These are gifts."

Fang straightens, grinning again.

"That so? Okay."

Vanille almost bounces in glee.

"Okay? You accept them?"

Fang gives her a strange look.

"Why wouldn't I?"

Vanille squeals and throws her arms around Fang's neck, making sure not to lose grip on the bangles and the necklace.

"Which arm do you want them to go on?" she eagerly asks.

"Think I'll leave that to you," Fang says, chuckling.

Vanille doesn't hesitate, takes Fang's left hand immediately.

"This one!" she declares.

"Okay," Fang easily agrees.

Giddily, Vanille slips one bangle after another on Fang's arm, counting in her head as she does. When she's done, she takes Fang's hand, admiring how the bright, colorful bangles look on the black arm sleeve Fang's wearing.

"I like it," Fang says, happy that she's happy. "What about the necklace? Another gift?"

Vanille closes her hand over the necklace, nodding slowly.

"I made it just yesterday," she whispers, looking at Fang and smiling. "It's a birthday gift."

Fang blinks at her.

"Birthday?"

"Fang," she starts, amused, "you're turning twenty-one in two weeks."

"Oh," Fang mumbles, then blinks again. "Why give this to me now, then?"

Because they don't have that much time left, they both know. In two weeks, they'll either be crystal or cie'th.

"For luck," she tells Fang, managing to smile through the lie.

"Luck, eh?" Fang mumbles, then smirks. "I could always use more of that."

"Can I..." Vanille trails off, unsure. "Can I put it on you, too?"

Fang nods.

"Was going to ask you to, anyway."

Vanille unclasps the necklace and stands on her toes, bringing her hands around Fang's neck, under Fang's hair, and clasping the necklace back together. Sure the that its secure, she doesn't pull away just yet.

"Happy birthday, Fang," she whispers, pressing a soft kiss to Fang's cheek.

Fang touches her face, wiping her tears, and it's only now she realizes she's crying.

"Now you're making me feel really bad," Fang says, smiling sadly. "I missed two of your birthdays and I have nothing to give you."

Vanille lets out a sob and throws herself at Fang, burying her face in Fang's neck as those strong arms gently wrap around her. It's not true, what Fang is saying, it's wrong. It's wrong. Fang has done so much – too much – for her the past two years, things she'll never be able to give back, things she'll never be able to fix.

"It's okay," she mumbles against Fang's neck, her voice breaking and choked. "You don't have to give me anything, Fang. It's okay."

"Heh," Fang grunts, "little hard to believe when you're crying like that."

Vanille doesn't respond, unable to get any more words out. She clings to Fang until she stops shaking, until even the sniffles have stopped.

"Ready to go?" Fang asks gently, rubbing her back soothingly.

"Almost," Vanille says, reluctantly pushing away from Fang.

They wait a little longer. Vanille needs to calm down, and she doesn't anyone else to see that she's been crying.

Fang looks around, ultimately, inevitably ending up looking at Cocoon. Unlike Vanille, Fang doesn't turn away, and the longer Fang stares, the more Fang's green eyes seem to change, like there's something dark and dangerous hidden inside her. Vanille decides they've waited long enough.

"Let's go, Bhakti," she tells the robot, leaning over to pick up the leash when suddenly, a flash goes off.

"Huh?" Fang absently mumbles, turning towards the flash and blinking.

"Bhakti just took a picture of us," Vanille says sheepishly. "He does it every now and then. I can't figure out how to make it stop."

Fang eyes Bhakti critically.

"Want me to have a look at it?"

The offer is sweet, but it also makes Vanille fear for Bhakti's life.

"I think we should take him to someone who knows more about robots," she nervously suggests.

Fang snorts.

"What's there to know? Bet a good whack would do it."

Vanille gives Fang a look.

"Fine," Fang grumbles, throwing her hands in the air. "We'll go find a bloody tinkerer."

Bhakti beeps, seeming to either in agreement or an expression of gratitude to Vanille.

Fang starts to head down the stairs and Vanille follows, Bhakti in her arms.

* * *

That night, in the middle of the feast and the festivities, Fang pulls Vanille out of the crowd and takes her out of Oerba, not a single guard seeing them.

"Fang, what are we doing here?"

Her own question gives her pause, the answer coming to her in the form of Fang's playful grin. The secrecy, the sneaking off, it's just like the time Fang woke her up early on her twelfth birthday and took her wyvern riding for the first time.

"Are we going wyvern riding?" she asks, eager, excited.

After being trapped in the arks for two years, her fear of heights is long forgotten. She just wants to know what it feels like to fly again.

"We're flying," Fang says, the grin turning into a smirk, "but not on a wyvern."

Vanille's next question doesn't get worded because suddenly, Fang's brand is glowing. She runs to Fang, fearing the worst, but stops when she sees a strangely-shaped crystal appear from Fang's brand. Fang snatches up the crystal and tosses it high in the air, flinging a small, non-elemental spell after it.

The crystal shatters and the sky gleams purple when a large seal appears. It breaks open to the rumble of a loud roar and Bahamut shoots down from the sky, the ground shaking as this massive monster lands.

"W-we-" Vanille stutters in shock, hastily backing away. "We're going to fly on that thing?"

"Yeah!" Fang answers cheerfully, running to her and taking her hand. "It's safe. Don't worry."

_I'll keep you safe,_ is what Fang really means, a promise made to her over and over again.

Vanille smiles, not needing to hear it once more. She lets Fang lead her to Bahamut, the eidolon that very nearly killed Fang. She remembers every blow Fang had taken, how Fang kept getting back up after each one to protect her, not giving the eidolon the chance to even look at her.

Fang sweeps her off the ground, carrying her with ease.

"Fang!" she gasps, her arms reflexively going around Fang's neck.

Fang chuckles and jumps on Bahamut's back, gently setting her down. Vanille clings to Fang's side as they sit down, taking advantage of the extra room on the eidolon's back.

"Let's go, Bahamut!" Fang barks, and in an instant, they're in the air, flying faster and higher than any wyvern.

Soon, Vanille is smiling, laughing at the crazy things Fang is making Bahamut do. She can't remember the last time she's felt so free, can't remember the last time her heart has felt so light. For hours, they fly, and every time Vanille looks over her shoulder, Cocoon is further away, getting smaller and smaller.

"I wish we could keep going," she whispers to Fang, leaning on Fang's shoulder, the one that now has the mark of a dragon.

She's not sure how she feels about it, this mark, not sure what it means to Fang. It's a dragon, like Bahamut, and Vanille can't help but wonder if all Fang sees in herself is this, a l'Cie, the Chosen, Ragnarok.

She places a hand over her brand. They don't have much time left, she can feel it.

"Fang," she says, looking up at Fang.

"Yeah?" Fang murmurs softly, in that gentle tone only for her.

"We'll always be together, won't we?" she asks, looking into those eyes that see nothing but her. "As long as you're with me, it's okay," she says, repeating the same words she once said to comfort Fang, now seeking it herself.

"Always," Fang tells her with such conviction, with such love. "We'll always be together, Vanille. I promise."

"You promise?" she echoes, wanting to hear it again, wanting to see Fang smile.

Instead of answering, Fang takes her hand, surprising her.

"Fang?"

"You told me once that your mother and father braid their hair because they're mate- married," Fang says, looking so curious and innocent at the moment, and Vanille realizes she hasn't seen Fang look like that since the day they met. "Is it only for that?" Fang asks. "Mating, marriage, it's a commitment, a promise. Can it be for other kinds of promises, too?"

Vanille could only nod, her throat too tight to let any words out. Fang gazes at her hopefully.

"Will you...?"

"Yes," Vanille breathes, finally able to speak.

She shifts to face Fang, remembering just now that they're on a dragon eidolon and they're flying, but it's again forgotten when she runs her fingers through Fang's hair, Fang's wild, stubborn hair.

Just like Fang, she thinks fondly.

Vanille's always liked it that way, always liked the unique coloring and the red at the tips. She won't change it, she decides, just do small braids. She moves back to Fang's left side, brushing her fingers against the side of Fang's head.

Her fingers tremble as she takes a few strands of Fang's hair and begins to braid them, doing so slowly, as reverently as she puts on her bead jewelry and bangles. She makes two other braids and tucks all three behind Fang's ear. They're just small braids, barely noticeable, hidden like a secret.

"I promise," Fang says, catching her hand before she pulls away, and there it is, what she's been wanting to see, the most beautiful smile she's ever seen.

"Me, too," Vanille whispers, feeling truly, completely happy, the first time she's felt that way in over two years. "I promise, too, Fang. We'll be together forever. No matter what happens, we'll never be apart."

"Yeah," Fang whispers back.

"First thing tomorrow," she says, "I'll teach you how to braid my hair."

"Vanille," Fang starts, "we don't have to do that."

Vanille huffs.

"Yes, we do. I'm the Dia here and I say we do!"

Fang blinks, then chuckles.

"First thing tomorrow, then."

Vanille smiles, pleased with the very agreeable response. She gets settled beside Fang, shifting until she's comfortable.

"We should head back soon," Fang says. "Yeta and the kids might get in trouble if they figure out we're missing."

Vanille frowns. They can't let something like that happen again. She still has nightmares of the children, crying and begging her to stay in hiding, and of the matron, lifeless on the floor.

"We should," she agrees.

Fang turns Bahamut, steering them back to Oerba, closer to Cocoon. Vanille stares at the night sky, trying to avoid looking at Cocoon. She leans on Fang, starting to feel tired, starting to feel sleepy.

"I wish we could stay here forever," she murmurs, the exhaustion making the truth so easy to say, making the tears harder to stop. "I wish we could just forget our focus and run away."

Fang doesn't say anything, simply puts an arm around her and holds her. Riding on Bahamut is almost like riding the trains in the arks. It's quiet, but the wind feels good on her body and Fang is warm. She closes her eyes and falls asleep.

* * *

When Vanille wakes up, it's to the frantic, panicked voice of the matron. She's alone in the bottom bunk, the rest of the bed feeling cold. She runs outside to look for Fang, but instead she sees Cocoon burning, its shell cracked, and crystal, all she sees after that is crystal.

Five hundred years later, she wakes up in the Temple of Anima. Fang is right there with her, remembering nothing of their focus, nothing of becoming Ragnarok. They're both l'Cie again, only Fang's brand is white, cold to the touch like crystal.

"I'm... broken," Fang says, so confused, so afraid.

Vanille holds Fang, and then she lies.

"Me, too."

**.**

**Note:**

Vanille's promise to Fang is from **Episode Zero: Tomorrow** (dilly-shilly . blogspot 2010 / 07 / episode-zero-tomorrow-well-be-together . html)

Fang and Vanille's last verbal exchange is from** Episode Zero: Stranger – Chapter Two** (dilly-shilly . blogspot 2010 / 01 / episode-zero-stranger-chapter-two . html)


End file.
